


Through the Darkness and the Shadows

by RhineGold



Series: Through the Mists, Through the Woods... [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blackmail, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Lots of Rape, M/M, Mob Mentality, Ownership, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29713125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RhineGold/pseuds/RhineGold
Summary: After the town rises up against Gold, rescue comes from an unexpected source. David struggles with his new-found power and all the temptations that come with it, while an old enemy plots revenge.
Relationships: Dove/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Prince Charming | David Nolan/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold, Victor Frankenstein | Dr. Whale/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Through the Mists, Through the Woods... [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183679
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	1. Mob

**Author's Note:**

> This story was the meat of my NaNoWriMo (in 2012) and will contain rape, violence, slavery, mind games, and pathetic domestic fluff. 
> 
> This part contains violence, a mob, and mental strife.

~*~

It should have come as no surprise.

The Curse lay in shards at their feet, surrounded by the wreckage of the false town and their false lives. The Wraith hadn’t helped, had only brought the damage to the surface, laying it bare for all to see. 

They had come for Regina, as he had known they would. She had been protected by Emma, but now Emma was gone. Still, she had apparently made peace with the new sheriff in town, and so had received a forgiveness of sorts - a reprieve.

He should have realized what else this would mean - with Regina gone, the crowds had lost their monster. They had lost their scapegoat and no longer had anywhere to allay their fears and seek their vengeance. 

But Regina was not the only monster in town.

And so, it happened that the mob found its way to his door. The lock did not deter them - it only took a well-pitched rock and suddenly they were pouring into the shop, more people than had ever stood within the walls at once. He found himself pressed against the wall, hesitating That which remained Gold reached for the gun beneath the counter, while that which was Rumpelstiltskin spread a different sort of reach into the air around them, pulling at the threads of magic spluttering throughout the town now. 

But magic in Storybrooke was unpredictable. Perhaps it was the indecision the hesitation, that cinched it, but whatever the cause, when Rumpelstiltskin reached, the magic did not come. 

The gathered people - Leroy, Whale, even Granny, and so many others he knew and did not care for, hesitated as well, just a moment, braced for the wicked coils of magic they recalled so well now. 

“He can’t use magic!” The dwarf cried, exultant and someone else replied from the back of the gathering, “Just like the Queen!”

“He’s still dangerous,” Whale said firmly.

Gold cut forward, bracing his weight awkwardly on his cane in a last ditch effort to reach the handgun in the counter. They surged forward at his movement, the town’s mechanic reaching him first. Gold was sure he had never wronged the man - Rumpelstiltskin did not know him, but the expression on his face spoke of anger, nonetheless. 

The impact caught him off guard, and it took him a moment to realize he’d been knocked to the ground. He stared up at them, eyes widening despite himself. Somehow sweet Granny had already obtained a crossbow here, and he stared down the point of the bolt, wondering how much of his healing might remain innate here. 

“Get him up,” Whale said coldly, and he wondered what the doctor was doing, running this show. Was he afraid the people might realize that he, too, was not really one of them after all? 

Two men hauled him up, one on either side of him. Both were taller than he, one a blacksmith he had once helped kick a drinking habit in exchange for the tools of his trade, and the other a knight who had served in Regina’s livery. They held him so high his feet barely touched the ground, though he tried to spare his right leg as much as possible, even at this angle. “My cane,” He ground out, surprised at the roughness of his own voice. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Whale said, lifting the ebony wood almost cautiously. “Who knows what kinds of enchantments you’ve got secreted away in here?" 

With a violence that made several people flinch, Gold included, the doctor suddenly spun and smashed the wood on the counter, letting it crash against the heavy metal cash register until the wood splintered near the middle. ”…So it is just a stick after all…“ He murmured, examining the half he still held. Shrugging, he tossed it aside. "No matter,” To the men holding Gold, he nodded. “Let’s get going. It isn’t far.”

“Where are you taking me?” Gold snarled, doing his best to ignore the first tendril of real fear in his chest. 

“You’re dangerous, Rumpelstiltskin, so long as you have magic,” the man replied casually, running one finger over the edge of the counter, dented where the cane had splintered. The crowd on either side of the door dispersed, people pouring out of the shop and to the side, creating a sort of gauntlet they would clearly walk. 

“You can’t take magic from someone that easily,” Gold snarled, struggling against the men as they began to drag him away. 

“We know that,” Whale replied, his voice calm in counterpoint to Rumpelstiltskin’s obvious distress. “That’s why we’ve got to remove the memories you have of what to do with it. A tabula rasa, I believe they say.”

Horror spread through his body then, cold and leaden and utterly paralyzing. The men carried him easily now, spinning him until one of them held both arms and the other lifted his legs. The bolt of pain as a hand closed under his wounded knee brought him back to awareness, and he cried out, struggling in earnest now. It was all they could do to hold him for a moment, but he soon tired of this level of effort. “No! No, you can’t… You can’t be serious - you can’t do this to me!”

“Take him to the edge of town,” Whale called, his voice carrying through the gathered people. No one made a move to help him, standing still in a wall of stony faces. “The border” he continued, following them at a casual stroll, at complete odds with the hard edge in his voice, “Right up to the line… and toss him over.”

~*~

He could feel the magic, trickling through his fingers, metaphorically, physically. Giving up on physical struggle, Gold fought for the elusive tendrils, trying to scrape together something enough to defend himself. They’d make a lovely pile of snails, this horrible mob surrounding him, but try as he might, the magic would not obey. Magic was different here - softer, more muted. What had once been effortless now felt like a severed limb - he could feel, but not feel his way to the end.

His concentration startled, splintered, fragmented. Something was terribly, terribly wrong, Rumpelstiltskin realized. They had almost reached the edge of town, completely surrounded by trees now. In the distance he heard a car, the engine echoing over the strangely silent crowd of people boxing in his captors. Gold could feel magic now, but wrong, even more so than the muted whispers slipping past his grasp. He threw his head back, hating the way this bared his throat. He could smell the blacksmith’s aftershave and the scent made his stomach churn. He could see a flash of orange now, grotesque and artificial, amid all the green and grey. The magic was getting stronger. 

With an undignified cry, he spasmed violently, the surprise of it finally sufficient to give the men carrying him pause. His bad leg lurched, knee catching the man holding his legs in the chin, impact rattling them both. When his legs were released, the blacksmith lost his hold on his arms, sending him tumbling to the road below. Gold rolled helplessly for a moment, coming up short a few feet from the crowd. His legs tumbled to the side, the right feeling completely dead. His left elbow fell dangerously close to the painted orange stripe marking the point of no return. 

“What the hell’s the matter with you?!”

It took him a moment to realize Whale was addressing the men who’d been carrying him. He lay at their feet, dazed and disheveled afraid to move for fear of attracting their attention. After a cursory examination of the soldier’s jaw, however, the doctor turned his attentions to the man on the ground. 

“Any last words?” He asked softly, voice still maddeningly calm. 

“You’re making a mistake,” Gold answered, trying to impart as much reason into his own voice as possible, hating the way it just sounded high and desperate instead. “I’m not the only one in this town with magic - magic you may well need one day.”

“Let me guess? You’d like to make a deal~” Whale sang coldly.

“Victor…” He began, but the boot in his throat cut him off. Gold rolled onto his back with the force of the blow, his arms coming up more out of surprise than any coordinated effort to defend himself. He spit a lock of hair out of his mouth, eyes widening when he realized the orange line now lay inches from his shoulders. 

“Don’t you think you’ve made enough deals with these people? I think they’ve had their fill of magic.”

Before Gold could answer, the same strange cresting of magic was back, making him writhe beneath the doctor’s boot as something that was not-quite pain ran invisible fingers over and into his form.

The engine he had noticed earlier roared into full-volume as the truck tore through the scattering crowd. David Nolan’s truck, he realized dimly, and there was the prince himself, leaping from the cab with a stormy expression. 

His solid punch caught Whale square in the jaw, tumbling the doctor down beside Gold, who could not seem to catch his breath. 

“That’s the second time this week you’ve raised an angry mob in my town, Whale,” he snapped, but he allowed the man to return to his feet. 

Wiping at his mouth with one hand, Whale checked for blood before scowling, “There seems to be no shortage of royalty in this town now - what makes it yours?" 

"Because I am acting sheriff until Emma returns,” He replied calmly, indicating the badge on his hip. “It’s my duty to protect everyone in this town, including him." 

Gold managed to roll onto his side, failing to put his weight on his knees. He felt weak and queasy, trembling as another tremor wracked his frame. Behind Charming, the Blue Fairy and Red Riding Hood climbed out of the truck, flanking him on either side in obvious support.

"You seem to forget what this man is capable of,” Whale snapped. “If I’m not mistaken, you once kept him in a cage, after all.”

“That was different and for a specific reason,” Charming replied, but the uncertainty rang through in his voice. “What you’re proposing is beyond cruel.”

“It’s for the safety of all of us,” The doctor insisted, indicating the gathered throng with his arms, “He’s too dangerous to leave unchecked.”

“He won’t be.”

At the prince’s signal, the Mother Superior stepped forward, clutching a parcel in both hands. 

Rumpelstiltskin knew what it would be before she even reached for the wrapping. 

Prince Charming brandished the curved dagger aloft. Turning, he addressed the crowd, “This dagger is bound to the Dark One. From it, he draws his power. Whoever invokes the dagger and possesses it controls the Dark One, and he is unable to resist their commands. As acting sheriff, I will keep it, and him, safe. And in return, we will be safe as well.”

Gold let his hair fall in his face, shielding his eyes.

“Rumpelstiltskin, also called Gold, I summon thee and bind thee,” He intoned dramatically. 

Suddenly, the magic clawing at him seemed to stop, slipping away like a dimmed bulb. He could still feel the hum of it around him, a low pulse of energy, but it no longer seemed at odds with his own being. He had never felt this particular sensation before - being owned. 

The dwarf broke the silence finally. “How do we know it even worked?”

“Command him,” The Blue Fairy said simply. 

Charming looked over at the man on the ground, already a sad sight. Gold lay on his side, staring at his palm spread flat on the asphalt, expression hidden behind a curtain of tangled hair. 

“Get up, Rumpelstiltskin,” He said finally.

Gold resisted. He honestly did, and his reluctance was clearly visible to those assembled. Still, he carefully shifted his weight to his hands, fingers clenching like spiders as he forced his knees to bear the strain of raising him. Finally, he managed to stagger forward slightly, nearly toppling right back over as he struggled to find a way to balance on his bad leg without putting too much weight on it. 

“He could be faking,” Whale commented, clearly unmoved by the display. 

“Are you kidding?” Ruby cried, stepping forward, “Look at him - he’s barely even-" 

She fell silent when David held up a hand. "Rumpelstiltskin,” He said calmly, “Take a step towards the line." 

Everything in Gold spasmed as he twisted his upper body in the opposite direction of the boundary. He shied away from the orange line, but still, traitorously his legs shifted without him, taking him the fateful step until the toe of his shoe tapped the edge. 

"That’s enough,” the prince called, before turning back to the gathering. “Convinced?”

“Yeah, but what’s to stop him from using his magic against us when you’re not around?” Granny asked.

“Rumpelstiltskin, I command you - you will never use your magic without my express permission, do you understand?" 

Closing his eyes against the pain of keeping on his feet, terrified of falling and pitching forward instead of backward, Gold nodded. 

"I also command you - you must never hurt anyone in this town, physically, mentally, I don’t care. You cannot hurt a single resident of this place, do you understand?" 

A second, painful nod. 

"Then come back over here, away from the edge.”

He managed two steps before he crashed to his hands and knees, too numb at this point to do more than let out a choked cry. 

He flinched when hands smoothed over his shoulders, but it was only Charming, turning him and twisting him until he was being pulled to his feet. He held him awkwardly, pulling one arm over his shoulder to take Gold’s weight, the difference in height making it almost comical. 

“All right,” He murmured softly, “You’re all right,” before raising his voice to the gathering, “And as for the rest of you - no one in this town is to raise a hand to this man. You got a problem with him? You bring it to me. No more mobs. No more violence. Anyone who disregards this will have to answer to me, is that clear?” At the sporadic nods and assents, he nodded in return. “Good. Spread the word. As of this moment, Gold is under my protection.”

~*~


	2. Vulnerable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains fluffy domestic awkwardness, a medical examination and a rape scene.

~*~

Gold sat staring at the far wall, hands clasped in his lap. He’d only been inside Mary Margaret’s apartment the few times he’d met with Emma, but it seemed largely unchanged under Charming’s stewardship. For a shepherd, the man seemed rather tidy. 

At Charming’s insistence, he’d removed his jacket and had even gone so far as to loosen his tie of his own volition. His clothing was stained, torn and scuffed in several places, and his hair felt gritty and wild around his shoulders. The prince had been gone for nearly two hours at this point, and he had remained, as he was commanded, sitting on the sofa. 

He had nearly dozed off when a key rattled in the lock, snapping him instantly back to alertness. 

When Charming entered, alone, carrying several bags balanced against his shoulder, he breathed a sigh of relief. He appeared to be burdened with groceries and a satchel that was unmistakably from Gold’s own closet. Cradled against his shoulder, he held a wooden cane. 

“Thought you could use one of these,” He said, too carefully to be casual. “Black, wood. Sorry it’s not as fancy as the other one.”

“It’s fine,” His words tumbled out too fast, sounding snippy, and he immediately tried again. “Thank you. That’s very thoughtful of you." 

"No problem. Still, I don’t want you moving around too much for the next few days. It’s best if you just lay low for a while - let things die down out there.”

“I have a perfectly charming house in which to hide,” He remarked.

“Actually, I’d like it if you stayed here for a while. I’d feel better off knowing just where you are. For your safety,” He added when Gold pursed his lips. 

“Cohabitation, dearie? People will talk.”

“So long as that’s all they do.” He softened his voice, more intimate and conversational, “…So how’s your leg?”

Gold looked at the floor, unused to someone showing concern over him. “Stiff. Sore. It’ll mend." 

"I think I should call Doc up here and have him take a look at you, just to be sure.”

“The dwarf?” He asked, too quickly, betraying his concern. 

“Yeah. That is, if you have no objections?”

“I really am fine,” He murmured, hating the way his arms curled around themselves in a gesture that betrayed his nervousness. “There’s no need to trouble anyone on my account.”

He looked up, surprised, when David’s knuckles brushed his cheek gently. 

“Hey,” He said softly, “I really am sorry about all this. I know it’s not really fair for you.”

Gold snorted faintly. “…Fair.”

“Yeah.” Clapping his hands together, David started towards the groceries. “I picked up a few more things - hadn’t really planned on company when I first went shopping." 

"Henry?” He asked.

“He’s staying with Red and Granny for a few days. I thought it would be best until we really got things settled in town, in case there was any trouble.”

“He’ll be safe there, if anything happens,” He agreed, considering the bold Ruby and her formidable grandmother. 

“My thoughts exactly.” He hesitated, “I… uh… I picked up a few things from your house. Red helped. She found your key in the garden and grabbed some things from your closet. I, uh… brought the bottles that were on the bedside table and everything in the medicine cabinet.”

“…Thank you.”

“I didn’t realize you had to-”

“It’s really nothing.” He interrupted.

Thankfully, the other man seemed to get the hint and returned to his stocking of the cupboards. “So, I was thinking Italian tonight. That sound good to you?”

~*~ 

He swiped at the steam to reveal his face in the bathroom mirror. The novelty of using Snow White’s shower had dissolved into discomfort when he realized how hard it was to bathe without a chair. He wondered if he could ask Charming to fetch his from his house, but the prospective humiliation of having to face the man carrying it through the town battled with his common sense. 

Gold studied his reflection, looking for any sign of shimmer or scales, satisfied when he found none. Telling himself he was merely concerned with hygiene, he drew back his lips, carefully examining his teeth as well. Things looked normal - things looked fine. 

Leaning his hip against the counter, he spent the next few minutes carefully dragging a razor over his face. The fact that Ruby had apparently rifled through his garments troubled him, but he was grateful for the set of soft flannel pajama pants and the light t-shirt she’d found. He wondered ruefully what she had thought, seeing clothing not dark and somber and utterly formidable. She’d grabbed a mix of boxers and briefs, a fact too amusing to even be embarrassing. 

Once he had finished his maintenance he unlocked and opened the door, startled to find David standing just on the other side. Shifting his weight back on his new cane, he balked awkwardly. 

The other man had the good grace to look embarrassed one hand coming up to hook around the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, I… I heard the water shut off, but then you didn’t come out.”

“…I was shaving,” He offered, eyebrows quirking down at how breathless and defensive he sounded. 

“Ah.” David nodded, finally realizing he was boxing Gold into the small bathroom. Stepping back, he gestured into the hallway. “So dinner’s ready, if you’re hungry.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” He murmured, brushing past him in the narrow hall. He wondered if the dagger made everything more awkward or if this was merely a side effect of his lack of people skills. 

~*~

By the late evening, they had settled into an awkward sort of domesticity. Charming sat at the kitchen table, sorting through a series of documents - missing person’s flyers, damage reports, and briefings regarding the town infrastructure. Gold curled on one hip on the sofa, letting his bad leg stretch out long-ways across the cushions. He read listlessly and uncaring through the ridiculous romance novel left in the seam of the sofa, trying to keep his running monologue criticizing the heroine’s actions to the purely internal. 

Finally, the prince set aside the papers, leaning back with a stretch that emphasized his lean frame. “So…” He began. 

Gold looked up from the book briefly before dropping his gaze and turning the page with overly delicate interest. “Yes?" 

"About the dagger. Is there anything I should really be aware of?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” He answered, voice deliberately mild. 

“All magic comes with a price, doesn’t it? Seems the ability to control the Dark One is pretty damn magical, so what I’m saying is… how damn expensive is it?”

“It shouldn’t cost _you_ anything, that I am aware,” He returned.

“And just what’s that supposed to mean?”

Sighing, Gold abandoned the pretense of reading, tossing the book onto the rough-hewn coffee table. “It means that I am the one paying the price in this instance - to have my magic bound to a master is not… ideal.”

“Is it painful?” At Gold’s confused expression, he attempted to clarify. “Does it hurt you? Having a… Having someone hold your dagger?”

“It was at first,” He admitted, settling back onto the sofa with more weariness than relaxation. “When you were holding it, it was… difficult to function - at least until you invoked the incantation, anyway.”

“Red and the Blue Fairy helped me find it in the shop,” He offered suddenly, studying the kitchen table with more attention than was strictly necessary. “They came to find me when the mob kicked up, and Blue said it would be the only way to convince them to let you go.”

“Yes, well. Ruby has grown to be quite the finder, now hasn’t she?”

“I guess it’s the wolf thing, now that the Curse is broken.”

Gold murmured soundlessly in assent. The silence now was neither comfortable nor entirely awkward, both men lost in their thoughts. 

“I really do want to keep you safe,” Charming said quietly, lifting his gaze in an earnest expression that twisted something in Gold’s chest. “I meant it when I said it - I _will_ protect you.”

After a long moment, Gold nodded. He could feel the fact that Charming was waiting for an answer. He tried to pretend as though speaking up was his own idea, but the sick sensation didn’t lessen in his chest. “…I believe you,” He whispered.

“Good,” Charming said, nodding. “That’s good." 

~*~

Charming spent most of his days out and about. Gold stayed inside, pretending he was satisfied with tidying up an already clean space. The books and magazines proved as dull as poor Mary Margaret’s life had been and he had only been mildly surprised to learn the woman apparently owned four copies of Jane Eyre. 

He did some of the cooking, which surprised and pleased David. The kitchen seemed more skewed toward baking than decent food preparation, but he made do and the other man was amiably tolerant of his experimentation and mistakes. One night they ate slightly burnt stir fry and David complimented the ‘Cajun seasonings,’ while the next, they ordered pizza after Gold’s leg began to bother him before he could finish a casserole. 

They sat, side-by-side on the sofa, Charming studying a series of blueprints detailing the latest excavations into the mine. The papers, unfolded to their fullest extent, covered Gold’s legs and lap where he was curled against the arm, reading a book about vampires. 

Finally, Charming sighed and rubbed his eyes. He sagged a bit to the side, stretching one arm out along the back of the sofa. Gold tried not to notice how this put the limb directly behind his head. 

"Good book?” The prince asked conversationally.

“It's abhorrent,” He replied, but his voice was mild. 

“Sounds about right. So things are starting to settle down outside. Red was asking if I’d bring you by the diner this week - show everyone you’re alive and not up to anything.”

He exhaled sharply through his nose, but kept his face neutral. “Yes, that would be amiable." 

"Rumpelstiltskin…" 

"My name is Gold here." 

"Right. Look, have you noticed that things are…” He hesitated, the familiar tones of chagrin leaking into his voice, “What I mean is… This is nice. It’s really nice.”

He looked at him, genuinely surprised then. Charming looked earnest and utterly hopeful. It hurt to see that kind of gentleness, knowing the dagger was wrapped up inside the man’s bedroom. But he nodded silently, returning to his book. 

Gold flinched when the arm slid off the back of the sofa, squeezing his shoulder lightly. “I’m not going to let anyone hurt you, Gold.” He promised softly. They returned to their respective reading. Charming didn’t move his hand. 

~*~

The next day, there was an unexpected knock at the door. 

Gold hesitated. Charming was out. He’d taken the dagger with him, as was his wont. He found he could tell when it was no longer in the house, something he’d always wondered if he’d imagined before. Leaning heavily on his cane, he made his way to the doorway, wishing the good teacher had had the sense to invest in a peephole. Perhaps it was Ruby? Charming would never knock. 

The heavy rap sounded again, and he shook his head ruefully. Rumpelstiltskin, the Dark One, nervous about opening a door. 

When he unlocked the latch, he rather wished he hadn’t.

Victor Whale stood there, glancing over his shoulder back at the hallway. He carried a medical valise and wore his white coat. 

“…Whale.”

“Hi,” He said awkwardly. 

Gold made to shut the door in his face, but he reached out with one arm, stopping it abruptly. “Look, I don’t want to be here anymore than you do, but I drew this lot today, so here we are.”

He stopped trying to press the door closed on him and scowled. “I don’t follow.”

“The followup? For your leg? I know the… dwarf doctor…. was supposed to do it, but apparently we are very shorthanded at this time. Turns out most of the people working in the hospitals don’t actually have medical training in their… other backgrounds, so there’s some debate as to the safety of allowing them to continue to see patients.”

“I see.”

“So if you’ll just let me make this quick, we can all go about our business all the sooner.” He finished, sounding huffy and a trifle bored. 

He considered refusing. He could slam all his weight forward, smashing the arm propping open the door. But the muscle in his leg twinged in protest and he sighed. Against his better judgement, Rumpelstiltskin let the man in. 

~*~

Dr. Whale paused just inside the door, taking in the apartment. “Well, this is cozy.”

“Can we just get on with it, please?”

“Right. Where, uh… Where would you be more comfortable?" 

"What do you need me to do?”

“Remove your pants, most likely, unless you can roll the leg up far enough for me to get to everything. It’d be easiest if you were prone and face-down.”

Nothing about that statement sounded at all appealing, but the leg had been troubling him since the mob’s assault. Finally, Gold exhaled, the tension leaving his frame. Suppressing the urge to roll his eyes, he turned and made his way into the bedroom space in which he currently slept. 

Tucked beneath the staircase, Mary Margaret’s extra bed had become Emma Swan’s, but the space remained curiously bare of nearly all effects. He’d carefully wrapped and stored the worn baby’s blanket, and left her clothing untouched in the wardrobe. Neither he nor Emma had apparently brought much into this household, despite the vast differences in their circumstances of being here. 

He sat carefully on the edge of the bed, toeing off his shoes. His dress slacks were nicely tailored, and so, he doubted he’d be able to push them up far enough to satisfy the doctor, so he sat about unfastening his belt and waistband. 

Whale waited by the kitchen table, discreetly examining the contents of his medical bag, and Gold was grateful for the attempt at privacy. Finally, he wore only his briefs and his dress shirt, and he carefully arranged himself face-down atop the soft quilt. Clearing his throat, he let his head rest across his folded arms, fighting the urge to blush. 

Peeking out through his hair, he saw Whale’s face shift from blandness to mild surprise as he took in the sight of him. One leg was decently shaped - smooth and whole, and the other twisted inward on itself at the calf, knotted with scar tissue and the echoes of obvious violence. 

“Well, then…” Whale said finally, finding his voice. Gold knew what it must look like - obviously not a defect that one might have been born with, and distressingly painful-looking. In truth, it was mostly numb, apart from travelling spasms and twitching when the damaged muscles were overworked. Standing and walking under his own steam at the town border had cost him, and the muscles were strained and tender still. 

“So have you been experiencing any pain since the incident?” He asked calmly, as though he were not the man responsible for the incident in the first place. Gold tried not to shift away as the bed sank under his weight. 

“There have been… spasms.” He offered finally, tensing as a warm, broad palm slid up from his ankle to his knee. “Somewhat worse than usual.”

“What do you take for it?”

“Baclofen,” He said tightly, shifting his hip as Whale gently pressed his leg to the side. 

“Good, that’s good. Do you need more?”

“Possibly. If it keeps up.”

“I’ll write another script and get Clark to bring it over to you. Assuming you’re still on house arrest?”

“It’s not arrest,” He protested, but the bite went out of his voice when fingers brushed the back of his thigh. “What are you doing?”

“The scarring ends just here,” Whale commented off-handedly, and the fingers slid back down to his knee. “Have you ever considered having reconstructive surgery on the limb? There are some wonderful treatments in this world.”

“No thank you,” He murmured faintly. 

“Suit yourself,” the doctor replied, and suddenly, he pressed down with the sharp plain of his fingers, making Gold grunt at the slice of pain this incurred. “Your nerves are jumpy - probably strained them rather badly. It should die down in a few days with no adverse effect.”

The fingers curled then, just on the inside of his knee, in a motion that seemed less medical than it was intimate. “I have always wondered…” Whale began softly. Gold lay tensely beneath him, his breathing shallowing at the rough pitch in the doctor’s voice. “I have always wondered why you did not seem very surprised to see me. Here. In this place.”

“Regina selected who would come, in many cases, deliberately,” He offered, sighing with surprised relief when Whale withdrew his hand. 

“She brought me here because of that business with her dead lover, didn’t she?”

“Most likely,” He agreed, unable to keep the sardonic twist from his tone, “We all like our little revenges.”

“Yes,” Whale whispered softly, as though something were only just occurring to him now. “We do.”

Suddenly the doctor slammed his hand down on the back of Gold’s neck, pressing him flat against the bedspread. The smaller man surged up onto his elbows, but he was caught and pinned easily as the doctor covered his body with his own. Gold went still when a knee pressed ruthlessly between his legs, spreading them roughly. 

Whale’s voice was low, taking on the lilt it had contained when they had first met, all those years and worlds ago. “Now here is what is going to happen today, Mr. Gold. You’re going to be very very good for me, and I am not going to hurt you, is that clear?”

“What is it you want?” He grit out, teeth catching against the threads of the quilt as his face was ground down in response. 

“I should think that’s fairly obvious at this point,” He replied sweetly, at odds with the brutal grip on the back of Gold’s throat. 

“Charming… David… He won’t…”

“I don’t care about precious Prince Charming,” He snapped, interrupting him verbally and physically as his free hand curved around Rumpelstiltskin’s waist, pressing them more fully together. “And I’m not the only one." 

His lips teased his prisoner’s ear as he continued, chuckling to himself, "You see, people are starting to talk. We elected our last sheriff, if you recall, and many don’t take too kindly to his stepping in and effectively taking control of the whole place. King George, in particular, has had many feelings about that. It seems our dear prince is not quite so regal after all, but apparently you knew all about that. But what he does have… is you.”

Gold gasped when teeth edged past his hair, worrying along his smooth, thin skin. He could feel Whale’s heart in his chest where their bodies met. 

“You can’t fight me,” Whale continued, still using the maddeningly calm tones he had employed during the mob assault. “Your new master made that perfectly, explicitly clear. Even if you could manage to land a blow, well… I don’t want to imagine what kind of trouble you’d be in, magically speaking, of course? Your precious, precious magic, Rumpelstiltskin…”

He released the back of his neck, his hot fingers prising down now instead, stealing under his shirt and planing up across his ribs. “If word gets out how … exquisitely vulnerable you are… Just how long to you think he’ll be able to protect you from them? And once you’re gone… What will his security be then?" 

Leaning up on his knees, he reached upwards, gripping Gold’s shoulders and flipping him onto his back. "So you’ll be very good for me, won’t you, Rumpelstiltskin? For your sake, and for his.”

~*~

Gold lay on his side, twisting and ducking his head in obvious denial, small and lewd sounds of muffled protest spilling past his tightly clenched jaw. Whale bowed over him, using one hand to carefully, oh-so-carefully, stretch him open in preparation for his main goal. His other arm lay bent under Gold’s head, snaking around to his chest where he gripped both of the man’s wrists in his fist. The angle was awkward, but the sensation and the visual were powerfully arousing. 

The gel on his fingers made an obscene sound as he forced another finger into the tight passage. Gold whimpered then, head snapping to the side so that his hair fanned over his face. 

“This is what you looked like as a man, isn’t it?” He asked conversationally, twisting his fingers deeper before parting them slowly, deliberately. “In the other land, you were a powerful ugly creature, but even then, I could see the appeal.” His lips curved into a smile as he grazed his teeth along the shell of his victim’s ear. “But then again, I’ve always been partial to monsters.”

“Because… you are one…” Gold murmured tightly.

Whale laughed at that, a sharp bark that made the other man flinch. “I believe they say something in this land about pots and kettles, my dear." 

"I _will_ kill you…” He promised, but the words sounded more fervent than threatening.

“Oh, no, I rather don’t think you will,” He said sweetly, curving his fingers with particular roughness. Gold cried out then, loud and breathy, his wrists shuddering under Whale’s hand. 

The next few minutes were quiet between them, Whale meticulously spreading the other man open, listening with aroused fascination as Gold continued to whimper and spasm in aborted struggles. “How does anyone look at you and not want to do this?” He asked softly. His tone remained playful, just shy of affectionate, and somehow, that only made it all the more horrifying. 

And then, as he added a third finger, Gold’s breath hitched, catching on a particularly ragged note. Whale’s fingers felt pinched and constricted by the narrow passage, and that was when he noticed that Gold bore other signs of violence besides just his leg. “Well, well, well…” He murmured, lips against the shell of his ear again. “It appears I am not the first to have these thoughts, now, isn’t it?”

Gold shut his eyes, burying his face harder into the crook between the pillows and the bedspread as though trying to smother himself. 

“Who was it? Someone here? Someone there? Or perhaps your precious Charming-”

“Stop it!” He snapped, interrupting him, but his defiance crumpled as Whale twisted his fingers up into the scar tissue, making him choke on a swear. 

“It doesn’t matter. It had to have been a long time ago - otherwise there’s no way you’d be this tight." 

The fingers withdrew, which was less a measure of comfort than an unspoken threat. 

"I’m going to enjoy this,” Whale murmured.

~*~

Every muscle in his body wrenched, tightening to the point of electric spasticity, but somehow, he managed not to scream. He had forgotten, had not wanted to remember, could not bring himself to dwell on what this felt like. His world narrowed down to the sensation of flesh rending him in two. He could see the quaint floral patterns of the bedspread, but it meant nothing. He could hear Whale, grunting in his ear with the effort of destroying him, but he could not process it. The blanket was soft and tasted of sweat and soap as he moaned against it, trying to focus on anything, anything except the man forcing his way inside. Whale was hot and big and thick and it was too much and Gold sobbed. 

Finally, the assault slowed as Whale came to rest fully against him. They both lay there, entangled and panting, and Gold tried not to think or feel anything. He willed his body to become as numb as his mind, but there was only that same, brutal, stabbing heat and no end in sight. 

“You are… _perfect_ …” Whale ground out, rolling his hips with a motion that was purely instinctual, while his tone was strangely reverent. 

Gold could not formulate a response. He could feel his pulse, the blood beat in his head, his arms, his fingers, and he tried to focus on that rhythm instead of the one being set between them as Whale began to move.

Each thrust was not rough, not violent, but smooth and deep and utterly owning. The doctor performed intercourse as he did everything else - steadily, deliberately, and with intensity. Rumpelstiltskin could not remember, would not remember, the man who had done this to him before, but he doubted it had been this distressingly intimate. 

Feeling weak, feeling complacent, he tried to struggle, wriggling his hips and pressing up on his elbows. Whale had released his wrists to align himself with his entrance, so he used what little leverage he could muster to try and escape the punishingly gentle assault. Whale snarled then, low and thick, in his ear, sounding every bit the monster Gold knew he could make. “Oh, no you don’t…”

He bit back a cry as he was yanked back roughly. Whale rolled them onto their sides, forcing him to take his weight on his right hip. He writhed in his entangling embrace, trying to stretch and shift to make his leg comfortable between them, but Whale gave him no time to adjust. 

The thrusting now took a rougher edge, more desperate and punishing, but not outright violent, not overly, overtly cruel. He recalled suddenly being a boy, being pinned, held beneath another in a hayloft, as the larger boy pistoned into him with a brutality that bordered on desperate. Whale was not desperate - he remained utterly calm, utterly in control, even as he continued to unmake his captive, a bit deeper each time. 

He brought his arm up, letting it press against Gold’s throat like an iron bar before he twisted his shoulder beneath them. It was only then that he realized Whale still wore his white medical coat, a fact that seemed wildly inappropriate somehow. The palm of his hand felt rough, felt hot, as it wrapped around his throat. Gold’s throat was long, but Whale’s hands were large, covering the space completely. When the doctor applied pressure, he could feel the man’s thumb brush his fingertips, realizing Whale could easily break his neck like this. Once again, he wondered about his own healing magic - would that fall under Charming’s command as something he could not do without permission? 

Part of him fixated on thoughts of Charming wildly then - a prince, a knight, a hero. Unable to form words at this point, Gold cried out then, a loud, guttural wail, broken and desperate and frightened. He wanted to be rescued, be saved. No one had come for the boy and no one would aid the man, but he cried out all the same. 

Whale’s fist tightened then, shutting off the flow of air, literally crushing the sound in his throat. He clawed at the man’s arm, but his fingers felt useless, felt thick and numb, and he found he could not actively manage a coordinated effort at breaking the man’s skin. Charming’s commands. 

The maddeningly slow and powerful thrusts were back, rocking him in Whale’s arms. He writhed his hips away from the penis splitting him in two, but this had the combined agonies of putting pressure on his spasming leg while digging his own throat into the iron grip of the hand clenched there. His vision greyed around the edges and he could feel moisture on his face - tears, drool, snot, he couldn’t tell, didn’t care. He couldn’t breathe. The blood was roaring in his ears now, his entire body narrowed to the points where Whale pressed hard into and against him. He couldn’t _breathe_.

Finally, he had no choice but to curl downwards, into the vague shape of a ball, his legs kicking uselessly against the quilt. This pressed them closer, pressed Whale deeper, and the doctor grunted in surprise as his hips snapped hard against Gold’s thighs. He felt as though Whale had punched straight through into his abdomen, it was so deep and so utterly filling, but he could breathe at last. 

Recovering from his surprise, Whale took advantage of this new depth, this new angle, his hips moving faster, harder. Instantly, Gold surged away, only to have the hand still holding him cut hard and brutal into his air supply again. He realized with a sinking despair that the only way to take in oxygen at this point would be to roll his hips backwards, pressing himself against Whale with each thrust. 

His pride, his terror, and his sense of self battled with the ever-growing and ever-present need to survive and with a sob that was more full-body spasm than anything approaching an audible response, Gold gave in. He moaned against the quilt, snapping his hips and arching his back. Whale chuckled in surprise, but he seemed to understand the cause, and in response, he briefly squeezed his throat harder, before letting his fingers pet with false soothing across the bruising flesh. 

With this exquisite stimulation, Whale quickened his pace, bracing his weight on one hip, hooking his other leg around Gold’s, pulling him down and into him with each thrust. When he finally reached completion, Gold lay sobbing quietly beneath him, all pretense of struggle and of resistance utterly destroyed. He continued working his hips backwards, more rote habit now than necessity, but he stared blankly at the far wall, trying not to hear the low, drawn out groan as Whale climaxed. It burned, but it felt so distant now that he was barely even aware of it. He felt the man withdraw, but he could not bring himself to move. 

Ever a medical man, Whale’s fingers prised at him briefly, checking that the lubrication spilling out contained no blood. “Good boy,” He murmured, patting Gold’s flank in long, possessive strokes. “Very good boy…" 

"Please… just… just leave…” He whispered, hating how empty and broken his voice sounded. 

“I will,” Whale said, sitting up and righting his clothing, still calm and uncaring, as though they had just shared a meal, rather than him just having pinned the other man down and taken him utterly and without consent. “But I’ll be back, later this week." 

Gold flinched when fingers stroked briefly through his hair, touching the corner of his eye, wet and stained with tear tracks and salt. 

"You’d better let me in,” Whale warned, a hardened edge creeping into his voice for the first time. 

Shattered, Gold nodded silently, feeling more tears slip past his now tightly-clenched eyes. He did not move when Whale left the bed, unable to even shift off his screaming leg, even after the door had closed behind the other man. 

The Curse was not the only thing broken in Storybrooke now. Gold had never felt so low. 

~*~


	3. Brand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter marks a darker turn in the plot, and the non-con warning is still in full effect.

~*~

That night, Charming came home to find Gold bundled up under the covers in the bed. The lights in the apartment were all off, indicating he had been there for quite some time. 

“Gold?” He called, knocking lightly on one of the steps arching over their heads. The other man did not respond, lying on his side, staring at nothing.

When Charming approached, he could see that Gold’s eyes were open, staring unseeing at the room. He flinched when Charming sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. “Hey, you okay?” He asked softly, keeping his voice low and careful. 

Gold looked terrible. His hair was snarled and damp from the shower, and he wore one of Charming’s zip-up sweaters over his pajamas His eyes were haunted, darkly shadowed and red-rimmed. He was clearly not ‘okay.' 

“It’s fine,” Gold whispered. “Having a bad day." 

"That looks like the understatement of the century,” He replied, reaching out to pet his hand across the other man’s hair. 

The reaction was subdued, as though Gold was too tired to even cringe away properly. 

“Is it your leg?” He asked, drawing his hand back, disturbed. 

After a long moment, Gold nodded tightly. 

“Should I call someone? Doc? Whale?”

He shook his head in an explosion of movement that seemed to disorient him. He curled away from Charming, the blankets over his shoulders visibly vibrating with the tension coursing through him.

“Okay… Okay… Do you need your medicine? Something to eat?”

Finally, Gold sank back under the covers, sighing out a breath that nearly ended in a moan. “Pills. No food,” He ground out. 

“Sure. Okay. Sure." 

Sparing one last look at the man, Charming made his way to the bathroom to retrieve his painkillers, wondering how one day could make such a difference in the man’s pain levels. He realized he really knew next-to-nothing about Gold’s injury, or disability, or whatever it even was that ailed the man. Still, Gold clearly wished to be left alone, and, while this ran counter to every instinct he possessed, Charming decided to respect his wishes and just leave him be. 

It was a strangely silent dinner and an early night.

~*~

That night, he could hear Gold crying downstairs. At first, he wondered if he were hearing the wind, or imagining things, perhaps a residual memory of his times holding Snow as she quaked in the after-effects of another horrible dream. Then he realized the sounds, quiet and breathy, were reedy sobs being muffled in a pillow a flight of stairs away. 

Slowly, leaving the lights off, Charming made his way down the stairs, hating the way he felt like he was creeping, intruding, even in a home that, by all rights, was pretty much his own now. 

Gold lay in much the same position he’d left him, one arm drawn up by his face, cradling his own head as he wept into the pillowcase. He did not seem to see or hear Charming’s approach, but he turned violently onto his back with a gasp when the other man sat on the edge of the bed again. 

"Hey,” Charming murmured awkwardly, fighting the urge to blush.

Gold clutched at the coverlet like a heroine in one of the romance novels he seemed to always be reading and deriding. When he spoke, his voice was as soft as his sobs had been, sounding curiously reedy and gentle, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Looks like you’re still having a rough time?” He asked, reaching out and patting the back of one hand, white-knuckled on the quilt. 

Gold nodded, averting his eyes almost shyly. 

“Want some company?” When Gold looked up, almost alarmed, he hurriedly clarified, “Snow… after the Sleeping Curse, she had nightmares a lot. It helped to… to know someone was there? Someone who was real and solid and not… not going to hurt her.”

“Are you going to hurt me, David?” He asked softly, the voice too melancholy to even sound timid. 

He felt his eyes widen in alarm at the suggestion, even as something inside him coiled tighter at the implication. “What? No! Of course not. I gave you my word, Gold. I’ll protect you, from anything, no matter what. I won’t hurt you." 

Expression almost absent, Gold nodded, and he carefully lay himself back down against the pillows. With a hitch of his hips, he twisted to one side, explicitly but silently making room for the other man. Taking a moment to straighten his t-shirt in a completely useless, purposeless gesture, Charming slid into the bed beside him.

The bed was warm from Gold having been in it for hours. It occurred to him suddenly that Gold had changed the linens at some point - the bedspread was the one usually found on the back of the sofa. Maybe the other one hadn’t been warm enough? He slid into that warmth, realizing belatedly that he had curled into the center of the bed. Quite suddenly, it seemed they were nearly in the same space, and it seemed only natural to bring one arm up, slipping it gently around Gold’s waist. 

Gold froze then, going utterly still in his arms. Charming paused too, but almost instantly, the other man went slack against him, nearly rolling backwards into his arms.

They lay there for several minutes, the novelty of the situation making it feel completely natural, odd as that seemed. Gold was small and soft and warm under his arm. He could feel him breathing, and the gentle rhythm proved soothing. He had tried holding Katherine, but it had never really felt right. This was not at all like holding Snow, but it felt… proper. It felt right. 

Gently, he shifted his arms, and very very slowly, slid his other arm under the pillows, curling it so that he cupped the pillow beneath Gold’s head. He could see his hair just in front of him, looking dark and thick in the streetlight showing through the windows. The tips of his fingers edged out from beneath the pillow, gently brushing that hair. The memory, of their initial encounter in his mother’s yard, struck him suddenly. He had wondered, wildly, stupidly, perhaps, what Rumpelstiltskin’s hair must have felt like. It had been too shimmering, too styled, to seem real. Everything about the imp had been impressive, dazzling, as attractive as it was repulsive. Gold had none of that spark now, seeming small and lost and utterly sad. He found himself hugging him tighter, could feel that soft, dark hair on his face. And then, just as suddenly, Gold shifted, his hair fluttering against the pillows, and Charming’s lips met the bare skin of his throat. 

The smaller man tensed, body coiling as though bracing to turn himself around, onto his back or to face Charming. His voice was nearly breathless. "What…?”

“Shh…” He murmured in response, lips still ghosting across that skin. Gold’s throat was soft and warm. He could smell the sweet scent of roses - Mary Margaret’s shampoo, maddeningly enough. His common sense screamed at him, demanding to know what the hell he thought he was doing, and ruefully, he realized his common sense had Gold’s stern, angry voice. 

But Gold did not display anything akin to sternness or anger. Instead he curled back against his chest, a sigh that was just as much a whimper as anything else ghosting through the darkness. 

He couldn’t say how long they lay there, listening to one another breathing. He couldn’t say who moved first, but in an instant that was unbelievably fast even as it felt languid and slow, suddenly Gold was on his back while Charming arched over him. He planted a hand, solid and straight, above Gold’s head. The man’s eyes were endless in the darkness and he couldn’t read his expression clearly. He could feel the thinness of Gold’s t-shirt beneath his fingers, and below that, the warmth of his chest and the rapid flutter of his heart. 

The need to say something was almost choking as he leaned lower and lower, closing the distance between them. “I _will_ protect you,” He said again, and then their mouths were meeting in a hurried, frantic clash. 

Gold’s fingers sank into his shirt near the collar, pulling hard and twisting the fabric. His legs parted automatically and Charming was between them, lowering his hips. Gold was hot, a furnace beneath him, and his mouth tasted sweet and honeyed, as golden as his name. He cradled his head in his hands as he kissed him, threading his fingers through that soft hair. The smaller man moaned beneath him, hips squirming from side-to-side beneath his, and he felt an answering sound rise up in his own throat. 

This was wrong. It was not a good idea, by any stretch of the word. He was married (twice over, his brain offered helpfully) and Rumpelstiltskin… the dagger rose up in his thoughts, a slough of cold water across his sky-rocketing libido. He pulled away so abruptly that Gold whimpered. The sound hung between them, soft and silvery and utterly arousing. 

He tried to pull away, to climb off the man, but instead their mouths were crashing together again, more needy this time as he plundered the cavern offered up to him. The palm of his hand slipped under Gold’s skull, holding him at a better angle. He could feel his hands on his chest again, pressing against him in a gesture less about drawing him in and more about attempting to create space. Charming ignored it. 

Rising up onto his knees, he ground his hips down, wringing a surprised cry, swallowing it down without breaking the kiss. He had never touched a man like this, but the mechanics didn’t seem all that different from what he knew. Gold was soft and small beneath him, not a woman by any means, but still lacking the aggression that might make this awkward and threatening for him. He clutched Gold around the waist, forcing him to arch his back, to press himself closer and the resulting exhalation of air made him break his seal over his mouth or risk choking. He traced his throat instead, sucking kisses with only the hint of teeth, the sort of kisses Snow reveled in. 

“W…Wait…” Gold murmured, chest heaving beneath him and he sounded unable to catch his breath. 

“Shhhh….” He drawled, accentuating the assurance with a broad swipe of his tongue that caused a full-body tremor in response. “It’s okay… It’s okay… I’m not going to hurt you…” He promised huskily. 

Gold let out a soft and quiet sob, turning his face away, baring his throat more fully. He resumed his exploration, drinking up the taste of his skin as he felt his hips begin to grind, of their own volition, between the other man’s legs. It didn’t take long (it had been far, far too long, really), and suddenly he heard Gold hitch out a breath as though in pain and he was growling, clutching at the back of his throat as he bit into his collarbone as release roared in his ears…

~*~

With a shout, Charming sat up, kicking and striking at the tangle of blankets as though they were an encroaching enemy. He collapsed back against the pillows of Mary Margaret’s bed and stared at the ceiling. 

He became aware of the sounds of the shower downstairs and tried to ignore the mess laying slick and sordid along his thigh. 

Across the room, the dagger lay wrapped securely in the leather sheath he had fashioned for it. Yet he could feel it, the ghostly sensation of the hilt of it, burning in the palm of his hand like a brand. 

~*~

He found Gold in the kitchen, staring pensively at the coffee pot, expression curled into something caught between frustration and exhaustion. He wore a pair of flannel pants and a t-shirt, the clothes he slept in, unusual for the mornings, since he tended to dress as soon as possible. His hair, wet from the shower, fluffed up slightly over the towel he wore wrapped aroudn his shoulders. 

Slowly, deliberately, Charming reached past him to pull a cup down from the cupboard but saw that Gold had already set out two cups. “Feeling better?” He asked, trying to keep his voice pleasant, but it sounded flat to his own ears. 

Gold shook his head but followed this with a slight nod. “I’ll survive." 

The coffee maker hissed and spit, a mechanical angry cat, alerting them to the finished product. Before Gold could reach for the glass vessel, Charming reached out and touched his arm. He tried to move casually, but his haste made it clumsy, made it hard and the sound of his palm clapping down on Gold’s bare arm was loud in the bright, cheery kitchen. The other man flinched, twisting back away from him, hip banging into the counter as he shifted his weight abruptly. 

Charming stood there, still holding him, and Gold stared up at him with wide eyes. He looked frightened and all Charming could think of was the dream-Gold and his soft, sibilant _'Wait…’_ Abruptly, he released him, drawing away. Busying himself in the refrigerator he tried to control the thudding of his heart and keep the heat off his face. Tried not to consider whether it was shame or something else. 

After a long moment, Gold managed to collect himself, pushing off the counter. He poured himself some of the coffee and made his way carefully, almost gingerly to the sofa. His back seemed stiff and he favored his right side more than usual. 

"I was just going to say that… If there’s anything you need, anything I can do… Just let me know, okay?” He said softly.

Gold half-turned to look at him, the towel slipping off his shoulder as he moved. He seemed surprised, eyebrows drawn up in a hesitant expression. “…I’ll remember that,” He murmured, raising his coffee mug to his lips. 

The rest of the morning passed in uncomfortable quiet. Finally, Charming came into the living room, leaning over the back of the sofa to grab his jacket. Gold continued staring straight ahead, back straight, both hands holding his cup with more caution than was strictly necessary. 

“I’ll probably be late tonight, okay?” He murmured, wishing he had moved further away from the other man’s ear before speaking. 

“Yeah,” Gold agreed quickly. “Sure.”

“I just need to meet with some people at City Hall. Nothing major. Just some infrastructure stuff. Don’t wait up, okay?”

Silently, he nodded. Charming pat his shoulder gently, and his blood ran cold. Gold’s throat was bruised, faint marks scuffing the otherwise pristine skin. Pressure had been applied there, and twisted, raising the blood to the surface. 

Abruptly, he staggered back, drawing Gold’s tense gaze. “I have to go,” Charming muttered, stuffing his arms into the sleeves of his leather coat. 

The door could not close behind him fast enough. 

“It was a dream,” He repeated to himself furiously. “A dream…”

~*~

He considered not opening the door. 

The knock sounded again, thunderously loud in the silent apartment, and Gold flinched at the way this made his head swim. He’d spent the day sitting on the sofa, drinking first coffee, then tea, unable to bring himself to eat anything, unable to focus on books or magazines. 

“Open the door, Gold." 

His jaw clenched tighter when Whale spoke. The other man sounded angry, sounded as tense as he felt. He didn’t have to get up - didn’t have to open that door. Whale would most likely not force it, not barge his way into the home of the sheriff himself. 

The sheriff. He had not forgotten the threats the doctor had made - against him, against David. If David lost power, it was extremely possible that the town would fall apart, become useless, and they may well completely lose any hope of bringing Emma and Snow White back through the worlds. And if that happened… even if somehow his memories remained intact, if the crowds did not destroy him, did not kill him, even, without Emma, he had precious little hope of somehow freeing them from their strange, domestic prison. 

Emma had broken the Curse, only to be ripped away while the magic swirled, wild and uncertain around them. She was of the magic, of the same stuff that bound up this reality, forced room for it in this space. Perhaps she was the key to unlocking this box, to freeing him to find Baelfire at long last. 

And so Gold got to his feet. His lower back screamed protest as he leaned heavily against the cane. He hurt, but he made his way across the room, deliberately, loudly, alerting Whale as to his progress. To find Emma, he needed her father. To protect David… he opened the door. 

Whale leaned against the far wall, arms crossed tightly to his chest. He wore no white coat today, carried no bag. No pretense of this being anything but what it was. "Well, well,” He murmured, lips drawing back into a wolfish grin. “I’m glad we’ve come to our senses." 

Wordlessly, Gold turned and walked back into the room, leaving the door open. 

Pushing off the wall, the doctor followed him inside.

~*~


	4. Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Horrible non-con but also Ruby!

~*~

Taking the stairs two at a time, Charming sprinted, making short work of the two small flights separated by a landing. 

In his haste to flee the apartment that morning, he had forgotten the new blueprints for the night’s town hall meeting. It was important to discuss the various shafts being explored and to determine the budget of supplies and manpower versus the other, more pressing needs in the town. It would help to have all the paperwork in order, something Snow had always had a knack for, and he kicked himself for having come to rely on her so much over the years. 

Leaving the keys in the door (another thing Snow would have chastised him for, he realized belatedly), he bounded up the short flight of steps to the bedroom, hurrying to the desk to sort through the papers scattered messily there.

His hand closed around the necessary documents before it occurred to him that Gold had not been sitting on the sofa when he’d torn through. 

Listening, he heard the shower going downstairs, and nodded to himself. Taking the steps more carefully this time, he called out, “Gold?" 

There was no response.

~*~

When Charming spoke, his voice sounded terribly close to the door now. Gold writhed in Whale’s grip, but he could not get the leverage necessary to pull away. His cane lay outside, just beside the sofa, and he prayed to whatever would have him that the prince wouldn’t notice it. 

When they’d heard someone on the stairs, Whale had forcibly dragged him into the bathroom, not even bothering to separate their joined bodies. He’d turned, flipping on the shower for a plausible source of noise, clamping his other hand over his captive’s mouth. His leg already exhausted, Gold clutched now at the arm around his waist, trying to keep his weight on the other man. Once again, however, this required pushing himself back against the flesh taking him. 

He had been perversely grateful for the hand over his mouth as Whale ground against him, the risk of being caught apparently only exciting him further He could not imagine David opening the door. Part of him screamed for rescue, but the humiliation of being seen this weak, along with the very real threat of losing everything as a result, made him desperate for Charming to just go away. 

Instead, the man called out again, just on the other side of the door now. The knob rattled. "Gold?”

Whale released his mouth, sliding his hand down to his throat instead, not squeezing, but pressing slightly in warning. 

“…David?” He called raggedly, trying not to sound as scattered as he felt. 

The twisting of the knob stopped. “…You okay in there?”

“Yes, of course,” He replied, managing something closer to normalcy “You only surprised me, is all.”

“Sorry, yeah. Forgot some stuff.”

He swallowed hard, closing his eyes against the slide of flesh inside him as Whale fidgeted, squeezing his waist tighter briefly. 

“Yes, well… Don’t let me keep you.” He offered finally. 

“Yeah,” David agreed. “Well, I’ll see you later.”

“Sure.”

Blessedly, the footsteps receded and, moments later, he heard the front door slam shut. They remained there a moment, Whale holding his breath and Gold trying to catch his. 

Finally, the doctor stepped back, wrenching free of the other man abruptly, making Gold cry out and stumble against the counter. He barely had time to right himself before Whale was wrestling him, turning him around and dragging him towards the bath. Gold cried out, an undignified, high-pitched sound that ended in a pained grunt as he was unceremoniously tossed into the tub.

The showerhead continued to beat down overhead and he was soaked in seconds, plastering his hair and t-shirt to his skin. Tossing his hair from his face, he looked up, angry and confused, as Whale hastily stripped off what was left of his own clothing. 

The other man climbed into the bath with far more grace than he’d allowed his victim, and Gold scrambled back, trying to create space between them. Whale ignored this, dragging him back down and lifting his hips. Unable to bite back his cry of pain as he was entered once more, more roughly this time, Gold shook his head, trying to burrow back against the tub and away from the man bowing over him. Sinking his fingers into his wet hair, Whale licked a stripe up his throat, tasting the water beading there. “I knew you’d look good wet,” He murmured. 

Gold said nothing, but response did not seem to be required. Gripping his hips firmly in both hands, Whale began a hard, angry rhythm, yanking him down hard to meet his strong thrusts. Gold kept his hands up near his own throat, scabbering at the collar of his shirt, trying not to touch the other man. He closed his eyes, trying not to cry out or sob. Water filled his mouth each time he failed and Whale only thrust harder in response to each sound. 

Finally, blessedly, he felt Whale’s hips tensing against his thighs, and with a groan that shuddered through his own chest as well, the doctor finished. He remained inside him, face buried in the crook of Gold’s throat. “God, you’re good…” He murmured, tongue snaking out to flick against his earlobe. 

“Please… My leg…” He answered miserably.

“Right. Sorry about that. Got a bit carried away there.” He answered, having the nerve to sound sheepish as he removed himself from first Gold, then the tub. Reaching out, he shut off the water before turning to look for towels. 

Gold rolled onto his side with a bitten-off whimper, trying not to feel more violated by his rapist apologizing for not doing it nicely. 

He remained silent as he was hauled to his feet and roughly toweled dry. Whale stripped him of his wet shirt, but helped him wrap the towel around his hips as he sagged against the counter. Finally, the other man stepped outside to fetch Gold’s cane, pulling his own pants on as he went. 

Finally, he deposited the exhausted man on his bed, pulling the covers up around him with perverse tenderness. 

“You know,” Whale murmured quietly, using that pseudo-affectionate tone Gold was coming to despise, “It doesn’t have to be like this between us. Surely you can see the benefits of an… arrangement such as this. I don’t have to be a cruel man, Gold. I can be quite tender.”

“You’ll forgive me, of course, if I express doubt at that,” He bit back, turning his face away. 

He froze and for a moment, he wondered if Whale would strike him, but the doctor relaxed almost immediately, chuckling. “I must say, I admire your spirit. I thought today I might find you broken.”

“Better men than you have tried.”

“Yes, I’m sure that’s true. …I like you, Gold. And I hope you’ll think about what I said. It doesn’t have to be all bad between us.” He touched his face then, gently and almost sweetly, brushing his knuckles over his cheekbone. “I’ll leave you to think about that." 

Gold ignored him, staring at the staircase over his head. His body felt like a tangle of bruises and tenderness, and he hated himself for even considering considering Whale’s offer. No. Better to have some sense of his own self, even if it led to feeling like he was half-destroyed. Better to have something. He would not belong to anyone, and he would not give in to this. Somehow. 

~*~

Charming had been halfway to city hall before he remembered Gold had already taken a shower that morning. He decided to ask him about it once he returned home, but Gold was asleep by the time that happened. He found a note tucked into the doorway where a spidery scrawl informed him he should check the microwave. Gold had made some kind of meatloaf and he ate it as quietly as possible. It was good. 

He paused, one foot on the first step, fully intending to go up to his room. Instead, he hesitated, shifted his weight back onto his other leg, and ducked under the staircase.

~*~

Though it was his name, he did not often think about what the word meant. However, he had to admit that he found Gold to be just that - charming. The smaller man squirmed in his lap, fingers tensing against the arm across his waist. His waist was small, but there was meat there, a pleasant softness that felt good against Charming’s fingers. He could feel the muscles tensing and relaxing in the man’s thighs as he pushed himself up on his toes before falling back down. 

It was something he had always known, peripherally, that was suddenly becoming readily apparent nearly constantly - how much bigger than Gold he really was. The man was shorter, thinner, trimmer in the chest and hips. He wondered how he had ever found this man intimidating. It was impossible to think him scary now - as he writhed and twisted in Charming’s lap, biting back small whimpers as the prince placed a string of sucking kisses along his throat. 

He couldn’t have told someone how they got like this - one minute, he had been watching the other man sleep, and the next, they were on the sofa in a tangle of limbs. Gold hadn’t protested - hadn’t said ‘no’ and so, Charming ignored his tension and the soft, abortive gestures he made with his hands. He wished he could see Gold’s face, but turning him around meant making him kneel and that seemed as unfeasible as it did cruel. 

Instead he smoothed his hands across his thighs, considering again how unbelievably sexual it seemed to see the man in anything other than a three piece suit. Seeing him in pajamas was like seeing him naked. 

He wondered then what it would be like to see Gold naked. Part of him worried the appeal of the other man lay in his constantly-covered-up nature - that once he had been laid bare, the spell would be broken when the mystery solved. The rest of him considered the possibilities of all that smooth skin - he had never expected Gold to be so sensitive to touch. The slightest ghost of breath sent him shivering, a gentle, barely-there swipe of tongue made him whimper. As he stroked his hands over his flannel-clad thighs, Gold ground down harder against Charming and it suddenly occurred to him that somehow he was inside him, fucking him slow and deep. 

He did not recall undressing Gold, could not remember scrunching his pants down past his thighs, could not remember untucking himself through the opening in his own jeans. There had surely been no lubrication, no foreplay, things he knew intellectually were a necessity for the type of sex he had never actually had. Instead there was only heat and warmth and softness. Gold did not feel like Snow, which he found curiously stimulating and liberating. He could feel the muscles rippling along his length as Gold continued to twist and shift in his lap. 

He realized Gold was speaking, murmuring something softly, over and over again, and the sound of his voice made him lift his own hips harder in response, breaking the litany as this wrung a sharp gasp. Eventually, Gold collapsed against his chest with a huff of air, his hair swirling around his face and over Charming’s collarbone as he resumed his faint pleading.

For Charming realized it was pleading. Gold squirmed in his lap and pushed lightly against the arm pinning him by the waist, and in his soft, breathless voice, he continued to whisper, "No… please… please no….”

Burying his respondent growl in the other man’s hair, Charming came.

~*~

Leaning against the wall, he sagged, shoulders slumping. It took him a moment to remember himself and where he actually was, what he’d actually been doing. Face blazing with shame, Charming removed his hand from his pants, sparing a furtive, guilty glance at the man curled in the bed a few feet away. 

He was a monster, he knew. This was unacceptable. The shame of it - the self-disgust and the violent sense of loathing nearly choked him where he stood. But a whispering voice in the back of his mind promised that he would only do it all again.

~*~

The apartment was empty when he finally woke up. He’d taken twice his usual dose of pills the night before. Intellectually, he knew this was a bad idea, that there was a certain amount of risk and that it was unfortunate behavior in general, an abuse of prescription medication. But the pain had been so intense, so violent and choking, that it had been all he could do to make his way to bed. He’d tried working through the pain, distracting himself cooking and cleaning, but this had only taxed him worse. 

He stretched out his growing sense of magic, feeling for the presence of the dagger, but he already knew that it, and his master, were no longer in the house. His master. He curled further into himself, burrowing deeper into the blankets, wondering if he would ever feel warm again. 

Gold’s eyes snapped open and his heart kicked up into overwhelming alarm at the sound of the knock at the door.

~*~

After an excruciating interval, she almost considered leaving. Finally, though, she detected movement, unsure if she was hearing it, smelling it, or merely sensing it somehow. 

And finally, Mr. Gold opened the door.

He looked, in a word, terrible. She was so accustomed to seeing him dressed to the nines, composed and collected in the face of a world that obviously needed to get its act together by comparison. Now, he seemed smaller, slighter, and somehow younger. His eyes were wide and blown, the already striking sight of them intensified by the dark circles under his eyes. The sudden realization that she’d been right all this time - that Mr. Gold /had/ worn eyeliner, seemed a hollow victory in the face of how damaged he looked. 

“…Ruby…” He murmured, sounding completely surprised, with none of his typical oily confidence. 

“Hey…” She said brightly in response, his use of her Storybrooke name giving her the clue she needed in how to tailor her own address, “…Mr. Gold. I, uh… I brought you your medicine? Ch… David asked me to bring it by yesterday, but I got completely swamped and realized I’d forgotten. I’m so sorry. I uh… I also brought you some lunch, to make up for it?”

He stared at her as though she were speaking another language, and then, finally, stepped back from the door in obvious invitation. “That’s very kind of you, really.”

She watched him make his way slowly across the room, stumping heavily on his new cane. It seemed too tall for him, and she mentally made a note to run by his house and find some kind of indication of his height. Surely it wouldn’t take any time for Geppetto to whip up a cane he could actually use comfortably. 

Thinking these helpful, benevolent thoughts did nothing to distract her from the way that everything in her screamed at her to act, to pounce, that this was _obviously_ wounded prey. 

He sat heavily on the sofa, and she sat about putting out the lunch she’d brought on the coffee table. “I tried to remember what you usually ordered when you’d come in,” She offered, indicating the club sandwich and bowl of soup. “And I made the tea the way you like it.”

His smile was touched, pleasant, and utterly heartbreaking. The wolf in her leapt, clawing at her own throat in lieu of his. 

As he began to eat, she turned and made a show of examining the bookcase and titles, instead stretching out her other self, feeling around the room for cracks and clues. The air stank heavily of fear. 

Fear and pain and… 

Wrinkling her nose, she selected a title at random, flipping through it in what she hoped looked like natural perusal as she made her way across the room, towards the staircase. 

Gold looked up, expression clearly alarmed, as the strangled growl tore free of her tightly-clenched throat. “I have to go,” She offered awkwardly, hating the way he nodded quickly in response. “I’m… I’m sorry. I’m so sorry." 

The air outside was fresh and clean and served in sharp, painful contrast to the horrible things she’d scented inside that bright, sunny apartment. 

~*~

Shifting his weight onto his good leg, he used this to brace against as he opened the front door. "Did you forg…”

The words died in his throat as Whale slammed into him, pressing him backwards into the apartment with a single-minded hunger that took his breath away. 

~*~

She found David exiting the school, her feet taking her to him without any sort of planning or effort. She killed his cheerful greeting with a firm grip on his collar, making an effort to flex her strength as she slammed him fully against the brick wall. With a bolt of foresight, she shifted, twisting, and dragged him into the nearby alley - it wouldn’t do for other people to see or hear this exchange.

“How the hell could you?!” She snarled, her almost breathless surprise ruining the fury of the delivery. 

“How could I…? Red, what’s going on? What’s happened?” He replied incredulously slipping unconsciously into his 'regal’ tone - commanding, demanding. Her blood felt cold when she recalled him using that tone to display the dagger’s absolute control over the man bound to it. 

“You gave your word, David! He's dependent on you, and you’re supposed to… How could you even…?”

His expression turned to one of shock and she was not imagining the guilt there, just before it melted into something almost determined. “Is this about Gold?”

“You know it is!”

The guilt was back now, slinking around the edges of his face and voice. She would flush this deer from the woods. “…Listen, whatever it is you think you know… Just let me say that it’s not what you think, I…”

“Not what I _think_? David, I could _smell_ you!”

He looked alarmed at that, face paling, and he spluttered, “What?! No, I… I was just… It wasn’t like that…”

“You… How could you do that?! He looked… He’s so… And _Whale_?!”

With that, something seemed to break over David like a bucket of ice water. His eyes hardened, spine snapping up straighter. The prince was back, all trace of David Nolan buried somewhere. “Whale?”

“I could smell him, too… The both of you, and sex and… fear. Fear and hurt.”

“I never, never touched Gold,” He protested, a sliver of that guilt returning to his voice at that. “I never…” With a swear, he tore free of her grip, sprinting down the alley. 

“David! Charming, wait!” She cried, following.

~*~

Ignoring Red’s shouts of protest, he ran. Somehow, he managed to outpace her, his desperation giving him strength that even eclipsed hers. As a result, he reached the apartment long before she did, key hitting the lock before he could even consider fishing in his pockets for it. The door rattled on its hinges with the force he used to slam it open, but even this impressive display did not quite distract the men inside. 

Dr. Whale knelt on the sofa, growling and hissing things in a tight, low voice. Gold lay beneath him, struggling in his grip, both hands pinned above his head in one of Whale’s fists. The smaller man’s face was turned away, eyes tightly closed, and even from this distance, Charming could see the tears clinging in those thick lashes. 

Finally, Whale seemed to notice his presence, turning slowly, expression apprehensive and almost sheepish, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. His movement wrung a sound out of Gold that seemed snatched right out of the previous night’s fantasy and he could see the way Whale was pressed to and into him. 

With a wordless howl of rage, Charming crossed the space and caught Whale by the throat. He heard, dimly, Gold’s choked cry as he ripped them apart brutally. He ignored Whale’s shout, focusing on the sound of the man’s bones crunching under the hammer of his fists. He knew he’d broken his nose with the first solid punch, hoped he’d break his cheekbone, his skull, his neck, with the subsequent blows.

He could hear Red in the room, shouting, then speaking softly, soothingly, and then loud again. Felt her hands on his shoulders, but he shrugged her off, focusing instead on Whale’s watery eyes as he brought his fist down again and again. Kicked out with his legs for good measure. He needed to hurt, to rip, to crush, to destroy, to… stop.

“ _Stop…_ " 

Gold’s soft, breathless gasp tore through him, making him freeze, arm drawn back almost comically, braced to deliver another blow. 

He turned then, meeting his gaze. Gold sat up, leaning heavily against the sofa, weight braced on one arm. He’d pulled the blanket down off the back to cover his lap. His eyes were wide and sad. "David, please. You’re not a killer. Not like this.”

“But he-”

“Yes. But please. Not like this.”

He became aware of the fact that Red hovered beside him, gripping his other arm in both of hers. His arm felt numb and he realized it would be sore and bruised later from the force of her trying to yank him off of the doctor. Below him, Whale made a sound too choked and wet to be a whimper, but he would not look at him. Instead, he looked at Gold, for a long, inscrutable moment. 

The tension went out of him as he lowered his arm. Whale’s next sound was more of a sob. And Gold went limp against the sofa, the weight of his own body seemingly too much for him to currently manage. 

Red crossed the space to him, and he could not bear to look anymore. Turning to the window, he braced a hand against the sill. Outside, the sun beat down, obscenely cheery in contrast to the horrors that had unfolded in Mary Margaret’s little apartment. He had failed. He had made a promise, made an oath, to protect the town, to protect the people, to _keep Gold safe_. He could hear Ruby murmuring softly behind him, and Gold’s shaky reply, but the words had no meaning, no substance. 

He had failed. 

But not entirely. Not yet. 

Spinning around, he nodded to Red. “Stay with him,” He ordered, tone clipped and imperial. Striding forward, he prodded the mess that was Whale with his foot. “Get up.”

“…I _can’t_ ,” Whale spat and was that a tooth that came with it?

He kicked him again, harder this time. “ _GET_ up.”

“David…” Red began but he held up a hand, silencing her. 

“He walked here to do this. He can walk away with the consequences." 

Glaring at him from the one eye not currently swelling shut, Whale rolled onto his hands and knees. "I think you broke my rib.”

“Just one of them?” He replied glibly. “Must be getting rusty.”

“I could _die_.”

“Yeah,” He agreed pleasantly. “You could.”

The implicit threat was clear, and Whale cautiously pushed to his feet. The cuffs felt good, felt final and right, as they cinched around one wrist, then the other. “You’re under arrest for… for assault." 

"Funny you should call it that considering what you’re doing to him,” Whale spat. At Charming’s alarmed expression and brutal clenching grip, he clarified, “What you’ve done is slavery.”

“I don’t seem to recall you having a problem with it at the time.”

“Yeah, well. Moral Princes don’t answer to me.”

“That’s right,” He agreed, shoving him in the direction of the door. “We don’t." 

Over his shoulder, he nodded to Ruby. "Call Doc and have him check him over. Then send him to the station.” He saw her nod in affirmation out of his peripheral vision, his gaze solely on Gold. The other man lay collapsed against the cushions of the sofa, staring despondently at the floor. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” He promised. 

~*~

It was dark outside when he finally made it back to the apartment. Every light in the place blazed through the windows, shining through the drawn curtains. He found Red seated on the sofa with Gold, who was curled into his usual corner, wrapped in an afghan and the blanket from the back of the sofa. They had been talking quietly but stopped when he unlocked the door, both turning to look at him with matching expressions of apprehension and surprise. 

“How did it go?” She asked finally. 

He busied himself taking off his coat and shoes. “He has two broken ribs, a broken nose, and a cracked cheekbone. And I apparently sprained his wrist. But he’ll live.”

“That’s… acceptable,” She concluded. 

“He’s one of the only two real doctors we have,” He answered, unable to keep the chagrin out of his voice.

Gold had said nothing, and indeed, had not moved, still cocked towards the closed door as though listening for something they could not hear. 

“I need to talk to him,” He said quietly, and at her tightening expression, he nodded, “Alone…" 

She turned and met Gold’s eyes then, the man sliding out of his revere to nod at her. She trailed around the sofa, reaching down to squeeze his hand briefly, and he raised his arm, returning the pressure until she had moved too far away to reach. "I’ll go get you guys some kind of dinner. It’s late and I’m sure you haven’t eaten either." 

"That’d be great, thanks,” He murmured, pushing the coffee table back away from the sofa with his leg, creating a bench here he could sit across from Gold, facing him. 

With a sound like a sigh, she was gone. The apartment seemed much darker, much more claustrophobic, for her absence. 

Gold kept his head bowed, not meeting his gaze. He could see the way his shoulders tensed under the cape of the blanket, and he hated the lines of fear he could see, tight in his face. And yet… And yet… Gold’s soft sobs and pleas from his dreams rose up in his mind, chased by the image of Whale’s face as he dragged him off of the man in reality. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He said finally, hating the tone of his voice - sharp, accusatory Disappointed.

With a minute shrug, Gold clasped his hands together in his lap. This did not manage to hide the tremor that ran through his arm. He was afraid, afraid of him. 

Charming tried again, trying to gentle his voice, approximating something as exhausted as he felt, “What I mean is that you could have come to me. I would have…”

“Protected me, yes, yes,” He murmured, but there was no malice in it. 

“…Something like that. Why… Why didn’t you?”

After a long moment where Gold seemed to be choosing his words, he sat straighter, expression taking on the reflective, almost bitterly amused expression he was more used to seeing, “He threatened me. And you. Your position here is tenuous If it appeared that you were weak, that you could not protect your… property, then it would damage your power base here.”

“Is that what you think you are? My _property_?” Whale's accusations of slavery stung at him, but Gold’s shrug felt like a blow.

“Isn’t that what this is?”

“I only invoked that dagger to save you!” He protested, trying to reign in his indignant tone, too late to stop Gold from flinching. 

“And yet, here we are." 

"Yeah. Here we are.”

Perversely, Gold seemed to want to comfort him. “There are worse masters one might have,” He offered. 

Charming swore and kicked to his feet, stalking through the apartment. “Yeah. Better than most monsters. What a treat.”

Gold said nothing. 

They remained this way, Charming braced against the window, staring moodily at the street below, while Gold huddled on the sofa. Charming let his other hand rest on his hip. The sheathed dagger there felt warm.

~*~


	5. Downpour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Gold goes for a walk. Spoilers: It is not a pleasant walk. More non-consensual sexual situations.

~*~

The next few days passed in a sort of malaise. Gold improved, sleeping more, looking less haggered and less pained. Charming spent more time in the apartment, just sitting at the table or near him on the sofa, hopefully comforting Gold with his presence. 

Whale had been allowed to return home under Doc’s watchful care, and a rotation of dwarven watchmen made sure he stayed there. Charming had also made it implicitly clear that if he left without permission, he would break both of his legs to prevent a repeat performance. The incredulity in Whale’s eyes had left him feeling strangely elated, and he tried not to think about what that said about him. 

Finally, Charming had suggested Gold go for a walk. 

“It might be nice, to get out of the house for a change,” He offered. 

Gold stared at him as though he had grown two heads, but finally, he nodded, the quick, emphatic gesture Charming was beginning to realize indicated nervousness rather than acquiescence. 

And so he sent him out the door into the graying evening.

~*~

The air was cool. Seasons in Storybrooke seemed strange now - in the Enchanted Forest, weather had often been strange, unpredictable, and this carried through as well. The warmer air that had followed on the heels of bitter, realm-accurate winter, now seemed to be cooling again. 

He’d made a list of things for Ruby to fetch from his house at her earliest convenience Perhaps he should telephone her and ask her to include a coat. 

For now, his dress shirt and suit seemed sufficient enough for the early fall-like weather. It had been a long time since he had dressed so formally, and he found that it felt strange after days of shuffling about the apartment in bedclothes and more casual fare. Clothes were armor - the more impenetrably the suit, whether three-piece Italian wool or crocodile and dragon hide, and the safer, more intimidating one could become. He felt himself again. 

Storybrooke seemed sleepy, curls of smoke rising from a few houses. He wondered at the distribution of housing at this time - had people completely abandoned their Curse-era homes to reunite with old family and companions? Or were there awkward situations like the one David Nolan had found himself embroiled within - two wives from two worlds, and ‘we are both’ indeed. 

He became aware of the footsteps behind him, as slow and cautious as his own. At first, it seemed incidental, a symptom of frayed nerves, but as he crossed the street towards the park, skirting the front of the school, the steps quickened and grew closer. Making a casual show of fiddling with his scarf, he paused momentarily and glanced over his shoulder. It was the blacksmith. 

Gold stopped then, on the edge of the park’s lawn, not moving into the treeline. Bracing his weight against his cane, he held it primly, creating a tripod with the wide stance of his legs. Defensive, but hopefully not obviously so. 

“Ah, Donald Craig, was it?”

The man came up short, clearly taken aback at having been addressed. Gold had never known his name in their land, but his Storybrooke counterpart proved sufficient to surprise. 

“Was there something you wanted?” He asked severely, tone clipped and imperial. Something about his body language must have given the game away, though, because the man smiled then, slow, predatory, and sinister. 

He felt the air shift around him just before the hand closed over his mouth. He tasted fabric, rough-woven and coarse, obviously doused in something chemical and bitter. He struggled, twisting his body to the side, slamming his weight onto his cane in an attempt to get the leverage to run, but he realized then the man behind him was huge. 

The chemical on the rag did not seem designed to knock him unconscious but he did feel sluggish and weak. It became increasingly difficult to keep a grip on his cane, and there were arms around his chest and waist now, lifting him off the ground. 

“You’re going to make someone very happy, Rumpelstiltskin,” Craig sneered, wrenching his head back roughly with a grip on his hair. “Where’s the dagger?”

“I… I haven’t got…” He struggled to clear his head, but the arms encircling him seemed to be made of lead and he was finding it hard to breathe. He thought of Whale, pinning him down against the bed, the sofa. The sky broke overhead with a rumble of thunder and water dashed on his face as the rain began to fall. 

“He’s not going to tell us,” The man holding him rumbled, and he realized with a start it was Johnathan Dove, the demi-giant he’d kept in his employ during the Curse. He had never trusted the man, as a matter of rule, but he’d never expected him to be party to action against him. 

Icy water sluiced down his neck and he shivered, suddenly even more afraid of where this encounter could potentially lead. 

The cold water helped ease some of the bite of the chemical and he found he had a better sense of the world around him. He reached then, not physically, but grasping nonetheless, into the air, the ether, around them. Magic roiled against him, but it would not come, could not come, while bound by David’s command. Still, he didn’t have to use the magic, didn’t have to claim it, to make it work for him, and he instead shoved at it, making space with the power of the command. The magic fled from him as he reached for it, and so he effectively herded it against the man holding him. 

With a grunt, Dove released him, and he fell to his hands and knees in the grass, the rain soaking through his trousers. 

“He said he couldn’t use magic!” Dove shouted, staggering back several paces before righting himself. 

Craig looked apprehensive now. “He shouldn’t be able to do that…”

“I’m the Dark One,” He spat angrily, sneering over his shoulder. It was difficult to look menacing while laying prone and half-sinking into mud, but he bared his teeth all the same. “You really think some _prince_ is going to be able to command me?" 

There was electricity in the air now, raising the hair on the back of his neck. The magic ebbed and flowed in the magnetic tide and he tried once more to touch it, only to be rebuked. Wildly, desperately, he reached for David, begging the magic to act as courier if it would not serve as a tool. It wasn’t using if it were a politely-worded request, he reasoned. 

A hand closed over the back of his neck and he looked out of his straggly hair to see Craig’s boot very close to his face. "You’re bluffing,” The blacksmith concluded confidently, “We’d be dead now if you weren’t.”

“Perhaps I have use for you,” He countered, but there was no bite in it, and he found himself flipped onto his back. Mud squelched around his head as Craig pressed down on his already-bruised throat, but he refused to suffer the indignity of crying out. 

“Where is the dagger?” He repeated. 

“Not going to happen, dearie,” He taunted, pulling his lips back in a sneer. 

Looking up, Craig jerked his head in Gold’s direction, summoning his companion from where he stood. 

It took laughably little effort for Dove to lift him out of the mud, and he could not contain his sharp sound of pain as his back was slammed against a nearby tree. 

“I’m only going to ask you one more time,” Craig said quietly. “And if you don’t cooperate, Dove here is going to make you wish he was Whale, you understand me?" 

Gold met the giant man’s gaze then, and he could see it there - that trace of hunger in his eyes. His blood ran cold, and once more, he mentally screamed for Charming. Thunder growled over there heads, and Craig shook his head. ”…Suit yourself.“ 

He closed his eyes as one massive hand reached for his neck, gripping his collar briefly, before tearing downwards, rending the shirt easily. The rain was cold on his skin and Dove’s hands were rough and calloused. One palm spanned nearly his whole chest and he shivered wildly. "Wait!” He cried suddenly, voice tearing free of him like a dying thing. “…Wait…" 

Craig held up a hand and the other man stopped moving, one massive hand firmly squeezing Gold’s hip in clear implication. "All right,” the blacksmith murmured, voice nearly lost in the rising wind, “We’re listening.”

~*~

“-And now we’re learning how to tell time by looking at the sky!” Henry finished happily, spooning another chunk of pie into his mouth. 

David smiled warmly, sipping his coffee, treasuring his time with his grandson, no matter how abrupt his presence in his life seemed. Across the diner, Granny continued wiping down the counter, meeting David’s smile as their gazes crossed.

“What they ought to be doing is teaching them how to use weapons!” She said loudly. 

“Granny, _no_ ,” Red replied, exasperation indicating that this was not the first time they had had this particular conversation. “They’re _ten_.”

“That was practically a man in my day!” She protested. “When I was his age, I knew how to shoot, to ride, to set traps in the woods…”

“Can you teach me how to set traps?!” Henry cried, turning then, both hands braced on the counter in excitement. 

“If you like, we can go out sometime and these old bones could show you a thing or two about… Charming?” She broke off, noticing his expression.

He stared at the tabletop, unseeing. The hair on the back of his neck prickled and with a start, he slammed the coffee cup down on the table. Henry jumped as liquid sloshed over the formica surface. With his hand free, his fingers stole down to his hip, tracing the hilt of the dagger. 

Granny repeated his name and he saw Red hovering closer in his peripheral vision. 

“…Something’s wrong…” He murmured. “With Gold. I have to go…” Leaping up, he grabbed his jacket, heading towards the door. “Henry, stay here! Red, if you would…" 

Nodding, she sprinted after him into the storm. After a moment, Granny turned and reached under the counter, producing one of her wicked-looking crossbows, and followed. After a moment’s hesitation, Henry slid out of the booth as well. 

Seeing him, though, the old woman pulled up short, carefully keeping the point of the bow facing the sky. "No, Henry. Maybe next time. Not untrained.”

Clearly disappointed, he nodded. 

With more speed than seemed natural for a woman so aged, she tore off after Red and David as the wind began to howl.

~*~

Lightening split the sky and Gold felt the magic swirl around him, singing in protest as he clawed at it with all of his being. The man holding him lifted his leg at the hip, pressing between and against him with a rutting force that left him feeling raw and bruised, even through both layers of clothing. He had never been intimidated by Dove’s size - always content that he was well-controlled and useful. But now, whoever the man worked for seemed to have offered him an incentive it had never occurred to him the giant desired - Gold. 

“Now then, the dagger,” Craig’s voice floated towards them as though far away. 

“Charming has it. He wears it on his waist.”

“I’ve seen it. I didn’t realize it was the knife we needed.”

“Stupid of you, really,” He spat, but the attempt at bravado ended in a choked cry as Dove palmed one massive hand up his bare chest, fingers tickling at his throat. 

“So we kill him and take it,” The giant murmured, tone distressingly intimate, as he stooped the considerable distance to whisper in Gold’s ear. 

“Won’t work,” He grit out, twisting away, only succeeding in scraping his back against the rough bark of the tree. “The dagger protects the wielder - makes them invincible so long as they hold it,” He lied. 

Dove drew back a breath - not nearly enough to keep his heart from thudding in his chest. The weight between his legs felt hot, felt crushing, and his legs trembled between them. He could not have said when he’d been lifted off the ground, but all he could feel was the cold rain sprinkling down through the tree branches, the wind stinging his face, and the obscene, terrifying heat of the other man’s body. 

“That makes this harder,” Dove said, half-turning to Craig. 

“We’ll figure something out,” He said calmly. “Do it if you’re going to, or bring him inside. It’s fucking freezing out here." 

When the massive man returned his attentions to his prisoner, Gold’s eyes widened, hands clawing at his chest. "Wait! I told you what you wanted to know!”

“Doesn’t matter,” Dove murmured, almost gently. “I was promised this.”

“Who put you up to this?” He demanded, but there was no fire in it as his face was twisted upwards, the touch feather-light and yet heavy as an iron bar. 

“Do you have any idea,” The man said, ignoring his question, “Any idea at all how long I’ve wanted to do this? Such a pretty man, Mr. Gold. Like a fairy almost.”

He spluttered at the indignity of that, but it ended in a gasp as his hips were hitched up painfully. 

“Too small,” Dove continued, stroking a hand through his hair, “Too proud…”

Craig seemed uncomfortable by the direction this scenario was headed, and began backing away. “I’ll just, uh… I’ll leave you to it, shall I?”

A crossbow bolt whizzed by his head, connecting with the tree beside him with a sickening impact. Craig spun towards it, and then away, in the direction it had come. 

“The next one’ll split your head like a melon,” The old woman promised, stepping around a nearby tree. 

On either side of her, Prince Charming and Red Riding Hood stood ready. Charming held the golden broadsword he was famed for, and the young woman had one hand on the red scarf she wore, as though about to pull it off. 

“Let him go,” Charming said calmly, firm and imperial and utterly collected. 

Craig looked down at the prince’s hip, where the dagger rested, wrapped in a leather sheath. To his left, Dove looked to him imploringly for direction. Gold’s ragged breathing sounded loud in the small park clearing as the wind subsided, just for a moment. 

“Next time, _your majesty_ ,” Craig said derisively, signaling the larger man to release their prisoner. 

With a pained expression, the giant pulled away from Gold, letting him fall with a loud, wet sound, to the muddy soil, where he remained, half-curled on one side. 

“Get out of here,” Charming spat, advancing slowly. The two men retreated in the other direction, walking backwards cautiously until their feet hit the street pavement, and then they were running. 

After half a moment, Charming nodded at Red. “Follow them.”

She nodded wordlessly and was gone, disappearing into the rising mist. Granny made her way carefully across the mud to the trees, retrieving her spent bolt before following Charming to Gold. 

The prince knelt beside the man, taking in his torn and soiled clothing. It had been impossible to ignore the implication of the position in which he’d been pinned. “Are you hurt?” He asked softly, brushing his soaked, stringy hair from his face. Mutely, Gold shook his head. “Okay. Let’s get you home,” He offered, keeping his tone and movements slow and gentle. 

The smaller man let out a soft, breathy cry as he was lifted, despite Charming’s care. 

“It’s okay,” He promised, curving one hand up to pet at his back, the other arm looping under his legs. “I got you, I got you… It’s okay. Just hold on to me. I’ve got you." 

Shakily, Gold raised both arms, wrapping them around Charming’s neck. He kept his face twisted away, letting his hair cover his face. 

Granny stood in the trees, forgotten by both men (if Gold had even noticed her at all, really). She took in the way Charming smoothed one hand in small circles across Gold’s back as they walked, and the utterly boneless collapse of the other man against his chest. Expression stony, she watched them go. Gold’s cane lay forgotten in the mud and she picked it up carefully, wondering when things had gone so strange between them.

~*~


	6. Dagger

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> David makes mistakes, bad choices, and worse decisions. Horrible non-consensual sex because I am a bad person.

~*~

The prince’s thoughts were in turmoil as he carried Gold the distance back to the apartment. The man in his arms seemed tiny, seemed frail, and utterly damaged once more. He was filthy, covered in mud, making it impossible to determine the full extent of the damage, but the way Gold hissed when his wrist brushed the back of his legs was troubling. 

He blamed himself. Wanting to get out for a while, he had stupidly suggested (insisted) Gold do the same. It had been stunningly short-sighted to assume Whale had been the only person in town with a grudge. Word of what the man had done had gotten out somehow, between the jail and setting up the house arrest. Somehow it had leaked into the town awareness that Whale had hurt Gold, had violated him. Somehow, he assumed this would mean sympathy for the pawnbroker - instead, it seemed to have invoked some sort of open season. Anger made him tighten his grip unconsciously and Gold made a quiet sound in his ear halfway between a sob and a whimper. 

Gentling his grip, he murmured soothing, nonsense syllables, and began mounting the stairs carefully. It took some doing to unlock the door without losing his grip on the man, but he managed awkwardly, bracing one hip against the wall and using the structure to cradle Gold between the door and his shoulder. Bypassing the bed and sofa, he carried him straight into the bathroom. 

To his surprise, Gold shuddered in his arms, twisting against him in some kind of squirming attempt at a struggle, as he carried him directly to the tub. 

“Shh… Don’t worry, don’t panic… It’s me, it’s Charming. David,” He added, remembering Gold’s penchant for Curse-era names. “I need to get you cleaned up, do you understand? I’m going to help you, but I have to take your clothes off to do that, okay?”

They stared at one another for a long moment, and Charming realized finally that Gold was still hunched forward, arms still clinging to his neck, in a position that was surely at the least awkward on his back. Gently, he reached up, sliding the man’s arms down to rest at his own sides. 

Still moving cautiously, he let his palms smooth back up before bringing them down the length of his arms, taking the sleeves of the torn dress shirt with him. Gold shivered and turned his face away as his chest was laid bare. Charming looked over him, trying to convince himself that he was merely checking for signs of injury. Gold’s hip seemed pink and puffy, the marks disappearing into the hem of his pants, and he found himself reaching for the buckle of his belt without any considerable thought. 

Gold went absolutely still as he removed the belt, remaining a statue when Charming unfastened his pants. To give him a moment to gather himself, he went next for his shoes and socks, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickened when is fingers brushed the thin skin of the man’s ankles.

“I need you to lift your hips,” He murmured, voice husky despite himself. 

Eyes closed, brows drawn together in a pinched expression, Gold braced either arm against the sides of the tub, pushing himself up a scant few inches. He could see his arms trembling at the exertion of holding himself up, and for some reason, the display caused his own pants to tighten shamefully. 

Snarling inwardly, he dragged the fabric down Gold’s hips with more force than he meant to, and the other man dropped back into the tub in surprise. His arms hesitated between them before he settled for curling them around his own thin chest. This twisted his body to the side slightly in a way that made him seem even smaller, even more vulnerable. Charming sucked in a breath and finally let his gaze travel down. 

He’d stripped the man’s underwear along with his pants. Gold’s weight rested on his left hip, creating a pleasing line of buttock and thigh, but the leg twisted at the edge of the calf, snarling into scar tissue and ugly remnants of something David did not even want to consider. He knew a wound from a blade when he saw one. 

Tearing his eyes away from the scar tissue, he looked for other signs of injury. The fresh bruise continued down to his thigh, the shape of fingers already becoming visible. Smaller, more yellow marks marred the skin beneath and around it, in what could only have come from Whale. He recalled the stiff way Gold had been moving throughout the apartment as of late, and his anger spiked again. 

To distract himself, he turned and began running warm water in the tub, a bath, not a shower, after the rain. Gold gasped as the water swirled around his body, but he returned to being silent and still immediately thereafter. Charming knelt up and fumbled for a washcloth, trying to keep his gaze from sinking back down to the soft flesh mostly hidden by the man’s posture. The water began to darken at an alarming rate, dirt and grime sloughing off, but nothing that looked like blood. 

Wetting the rag, he gently, gently ran it over his arm, acclimating him to the idea of being touched. Gold remained motionless, almost like a doll or a puppet, the only sign of life the rapid rise and fall of his chest. He allowed Charming to bath him, keeping his eyes and jaw tightly clenched, face turned away. When he had cleaned the mud and grime off of him, he drained the dirty water, watching it swirl away down the drain, wishing all of this mess could go with it. 

Gold startled again when he ran more water in, arms coming up to push at Charming’s back as he tried to gently urge him to lay down in the bath. “I’m just going to wash your hair, okay?” He said, and Gold relaxed incrementally. 

“I’m not going to hurt you, Gold,” He promised, petting his hands through his hair in a gesture he firmly told himself was all about removing tangles and nothing else. “I’m not going to hurt you,” But his voice sounded as hollow as the expression in Gold’s eyes. 

~*~

He told himself to stay upstairs. 

But Charming had never been good at self-control, at setting limits for himself, and so, he found his bare feet hitting the wooden steps and then the floor, abandoning the loft and his own bed. Gold lay twisted up under the blankets, burrowed like a hibernating thing, the fluffy pile shifting with his slow, even breaths. 

He looked young in the dark, looked small and innocent and utterly tempting. Charming tried to stand in the doorway, tried to wake up, tried to ignore the desires coursing through him. These dreams, for he knew they were dreams now, was aware of it in an abstract, lucid way, these dreams had to stop. It was sick, it was wrong, it was _wrong_. 

Gold’s eyes snapped open as he slid one knee onto the bed. With a cry, the smaller man raised his arms as though to strike him, but the gesture became vague, became weak, and he caught the arms easily, bending them to force them back above his head. This rolled him onto his back and he braced a foot against the bed, bending his knee high, creating a sort of barrier between them. 

A bit of rummaging produced a scarf tangled around the corner of the bedpost, and the serendipity of this seemed too much to pass up. He tried to keep the loops of fabric loose and gentle, twisting his thin wrists within the silk, before bringing it up to the headboard to be securely fastened there. 

Gold tugged at his wrists despondently, but his struggles were weaker now, as though he had simply given up completely. Charming found he preferred this stage of the dream - it was no longer about force, but merely about power - Gold seemed to recognize that Charming could and would have him, and gave in to that. 

Charming slid fully under the covers then, touching his face gently, trying to make the gesture sweet and tender, as he always had with Snow. Something in him sang to grab him roughly, to kiss him with tongue and stubble and teeth; to grind down on him and mark him as his own. He resisted, but only just. 

Instead, he traced a palm down his unbruised side, smoothing over the soft cotton of his t-shirt, before teasing at his hip. Fingers delved into the drawstring waistband, tracing across the smooth, warm skin there. He could feel the thin skin and the hard bone, soft and firm in direct contrast, Gold in a microcosm And then he was unlacing the string knots, and pushing the fabric away for the second time that day.

He satisfied his earlier whim, running one hand over his skin, palm flat and fingers spread to diffuse the pressure over a wider surface area, moving down his leg and into the scars. The skin felt hard and rough in some places, soft and smooth in others. Gold gasped, throwing his head back hard against the pillow and the headboard rattled as he clawed now at the silk holding him down. Charming continued his exploration, keeping his eyes on Gold's exquisitely tormented face, unable to interpret his expression as pleasure or pain. Perhaps Gold himself did not know. 

Snow had a scar on her leg, where a flying bit of metal on a reign had snapped back and struck her hard when she was a child, and touching it produced shivers and enchanting sounds. This was a thousand times beyond that mark, and Gold seemed completely undone by the exploration. 

Finally, something in Gold seemed to break, and he spasmed back against the bed, as though trying to sink into its depths. A shattered sound broke out of his throat, and he sobbed. “Please, _stop_!”

David did then, taking in his tear-stained face, his wide, endless eyes, and the way he trembled beneath him. 

“I want you…” He whispered, surprising himself, and Gold sobbed again, turning away. “No, no, no, don’t do that!” He cried, grabbing his chin in one fist. “Look at me. I want you to look at me.”

“Please don’t do this… You gave your word, you…”

“Shhh…” He silenced him with a finger to his lips. “No more talking." 

The formless sound of sadness that followed this command went straight through his groin, and he moaned, burying his face in the crook between Gold’s stomach and hip.

Gold’s skin tasted like cinnamon a spice David loved, associated with comfort and happiness, his mother and Snow. Here, it seemed tempered by something else, something almost bitter, but also sweet, something closer to cocoa powder than anything else. The taste reminded him of the smell of a puff of purple smoke and he realized it was the magic, embedded in his very skin.

He licked his way lower, ignoring the way Gold wrenched his hips, trying to close his legs. Pressing hard, he shoved them apart, curling his fingers around his thighs. He could feel the heat and the tenderness of the bruises there, and Gold bit out a hiss, a wordless cry following. He did not take Gold in his mouth, but he licked a dangerous line down his softest skin, tracing his inner thigh at the joint of his leg, and then lower still. 

Unable to stand it anymore, he broke free with a gasp of his own, mirroring the exhalation the other man made. His own pants were a thing of the past, but not quickly enough, and he instinctively pressed down, searching for the entrance he knew was there. Gold cried out, a sharp bark of a sound, unlike his usual moans, as Charming’s erection stabbed at him. He realized it was not going to fit this time, not this way, and so, he spit in his palm, smearing the saliva on his fingers. One digit sank inside, despite Gold’s attempts to keep it out. The man shrieked as he shoved another in too quickly, too desperate to take any time to do this properly. 

After a moment, the shock seemed to have worn off, and Gold collapsed into a shivering mess. He stopped trying to close his legs, instead clutching at the tangle of silk binding his wrists as though it were a lifeline in a storm. Charming decided enough was enough and he felt as though he might faint from the need building inside of him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this, indeed if he had ever felt like this before.

More saliva and the generous, steady trickle of precome gave him enough to slick himself with, and Gold _screamed_ as he pressed inside. He slammed his hips too hard, expecting more resistance than Gold could apparently muster, and he found himself bottoming out far sooner than he expected. He could feel the man shaking, beneath him, _around_ him and he rocked his hips experimentally. Shaking his head from side to side wildly, Gold’s lips moved in silent pleas the command would not let him vocalize. He sobbed openly, his face a mess of wet and slick, in direct counterpoint to the still-too-dry heat clutching Charming like a vise. 

He set a steady rhythm, bracing his palms flat on either side of Gold’s shoulders. This felt different than before, felt more tangible less abstract. It wasn’t entirely pleasant - the friction almost too much, the passage still too dry. He couldn’t stop, though, wouldn’t stop. Charming lost himself in the ebb and flow of his thrusts, drinking up the sounds the man made with lips that never quite sealed in a kiss. It seemed wrong to kiss him like this - too intimate, too intense. Instead, he worried his teeth along his throat, re-bruising the skin finally starting to heal after Whale’s abuse.

Thoughts of Whale spurned him harder, made him bite harder, increasing the force he exerted on Gold’s body. The man was his - his to command, his to claim. Whale had stolen him, the huge man in the park had tried, but no one would have him, apart from Charming himself. It was his destiny, his potential, his reward after years of service to others. He had earned this, this small, delicate, beautiful man sobbing beneath him, all heat and tears and exquisite sounds. 

With a roar that contained no sense of humanity, he ground himself down, harder and farther, wringing another shriek from his captive. The spooling of his own orgasm caught him almost off-guard, and he continued to thrust long after it was gone. He softened inside of Gold, still rocking against him in determination, in possessiveness, in _ownership_. There would be no one else for this man. He would be his and his alone. 

Burying his face in the crook of Gold’s neck, he licked at the sweat-slicked skin, tasting the cinnamon the cocoa, the leftover adrenaline. He felt heavier than he had ever known before, but something inside him sang, exultant at last. He was no longer a prince, he decided. Now, he was a king. 

~*~

The bed was warm and soft beneath and around him. He grunted sleepily, burrowing further into that warmth, trying to ignore the soft, repetitive sound that had woken him. His arms tightened around something firm and sleep-warm. He could feel bare skin under his arms. 

Blinking blearily, Charming opened his eyes. Mid-morning light filtered in through the windows across the room, casting the space under the stairs in shadow. He realized he lay on his side, arms wrapped around Gold’s trim waist. The sound that had woken him appeared to be the man crying quietly, despite his attempts to muffle himself in the pillow. 

Pulling back with a start, he sat up, making Gold cringe and bite out a gasp. 

Horror settled low in his chest as he realized neither of them were clothed below the waist. The sensation sank lower still when he realized Gold’s wrists were bound together, loops of silk pinning them over his head to the headboard.

"Gold?” He asked, too loudly in the near-silence of the apartment. 

The other man said nothing, curling in on himself, hiding his face in his arms. More tears slid free of his eyes, but he kept his gaze averted from Charming. 

“What happened?” He demanded, aborting a gesture that would have ended in him shaking him by the shoulders. He remembered (oh how he remembered) but he did not want to consider - could not process.

Gold hissed, a long, drawn-out sound caught between pain and anger, and he bit at his lip in an attempt to stave off the command. “…You… We…” He yanked hard, involuntarily on his wrists, rattling the headboard slightly. 

Guilt seemed liable to crush him utterly as he carefully reached over, yanking at the knot. It held good, pulled too tight by Gold’s struggles. After a moment, he got up, jamming his legs into his pants hastily. The closest blade lay in the leather sheath at the top of the stairs and it only took a handful of steps to claim it. 

There was no resistance when he turned Gold onto his back. This made something in his heart ache even as something lower clenched in satisfaction. He merely lay there, eyes still averted, staring at some point in the middle distance beyond the bed. Only when Charming unsheathed the knife did he react, stiffening and looking up then in obvious alarm. 

He held the knife over him, the closest proximity the two bound things had been to one another since the invocation tethering them both to Charming. Gold’s eyes never left the knife. He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes when the blade came closer, clearly braced for a blow. Instead, the prince severed the knot holding his wrists, freeing him. 

Gold drew away from him then, sliding across the bed, clutching his bruised wrists to his chest. He hissed as he moved and the sight of blood on the sheets where he had lain was impossible to miss. 

Finally, Gold spoke, voice low and ragged, hoarse from screaming the night before. “May I wash up?" 

"What?” He barked, confused, before scrambling back away from him, standing again. “Yeah, sure, of course… Uh…” He fumbled about the bed, finally locating Gold’s pajama pants, tangled in the blankets at the foot of the bed. “Here…” He said quietly. 

He took them gingerly, twisting his hips until one leg met the floor, rolling into a position with the weight still on his side. The motion of pulling on the garment seemed difficult and painful, made more awkward by the way Charming could not seem to tear his gaze away from him. When he reached for his cane, however, his knee buckled, sending him crashing to the floor with a choked yelp. 

Only trying to help him, Charming darted forward, catching him under the arm belatedly. Gold cried out again, in obvious fright this time, jerking away, sprawling sideways on the floor, hitting the dresser hard with his shoulders. He lay there, chest heaving, eyes wild, and Charming belatedly brought his hand down to brace on the floor instead. 

Against his better judgement, he found himself sliding closer to the other man, closing the distance between them. “Gold…” He murmured, trying to keep his tone contrite. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t… I never meant to hurt you. I didn’t realize that… I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“…That much was obvious,” He snapped, but paled at his own words, tensing further in anticipation of anger.

The words cut like a jagged knife, one side hitting his guilt and the other his pride. Finally, he managed to twist his tone into something closer to the former. “Did I… hurt you?”

He seemed to want to remain silent, his throat working hard as he swallowed repeatedly. When he answered, his voice sounded hollow all of the sudden. “…Yes." 

"Do you need a doctor?”

“I don’t know." 

He sat then, nearly falling back onto the floor, one hand coming up to scratch through his close-cropped hair. "I don’t know what to do from here.”

Gold said nothing and it occurred to him that he had not phrased it as a question. He recalled Gold’s responses last night - keeping his eyes on him and suddenly lapsing only into sounds instead of pleading with words - all because he’d been ordered to do as much. He was beginning to understand the relationship between them more, to really grasp the extent of the power he wielded over the Dark One in his thrall. It was time to fully test those boundaries, he decided.

“I want you to use your magic to heal yourself,” He heard himself saying, in a voice too imperial to be kind. “Use your magic to clean the bed, the clothes, anything. So that no one,” He paused thoughtfully, considering Red and her senses, “ _No one_ can tell what happened last night." 

Gold’s expression warred between surprise and confusion, brows drawn down, lips pulled back in a near-grimace that showed his crooked teeth. Finally, he murmured shakily, ”…Is that all?“ 

"Just do it,” He answered harshly. 

Finally, Gold pulled himself up into a strange hunched kneel, keeping all of his weight on his left leg, with most of his weight being transferred through his shoulder against the dresser. The cocoa-like smell was back now, as he slowly reached between his own legs, running a palm over his clothing. Afterwards, he rubbed his wrists and his throat, the same magic curling around him in thin purple tendrils. With one last, almost casual flick of the wrist towards the bed, it righted itself into a nicely-made state, and the heady scents of sex and blood vanished from at least Charming’s senses. 

He sagged against the dresser as though the act had exhausted him, eyes closed, chest heaving as he curled both arms around himself. “Will there be anything else, _Master_?” He tried to make his tone snarky, vicious, but instead it only sounded bleak and hopeless. 

“I want you to forget this happened,” Charming said softly, making him look up in shock. Undeterred, he repeated himself. “Forget what happened last night. Like it never happened. Use magic to make it work, whatever you need to. Erase it from your memories. Like nothing ever happened between us.”

After a long moment of an accusatory completely distressed stare, Gold closed his eyes. Touching two of his fingers to his forehead, there was a tiny burst of magic, and then he was collapsing to the floor in what could only be described as a swoon. 

It was more instinct than anything else that caused the prince to surge forward, scooping him up and carrying him the two steps to the bed. He laid him atop the pristine sheets and brushed his hair from his face. The red scarf lay folded nearly on the pillow beside him, intact, with no sign of damage or abuse. Just like Gold. Or so he hoped. So he hoped.


End file.
